Blessed be the Hunter
by vr2lbast
Summary: Weiss Kreuz, Post Dramatic Precious and PreGühen, AU, First written in 2004. Weiss recruits three new hunters and trains them during their downtime until something starts picking them off one by one. Dark subject matter.


**Author's Note:** This is one of my earlier fics, inspired by one of Robert Bloch's short stories called, I believe, "Animal Fair" in the collection _Night Chills_.

**It is, by necessity, an AU fic.** I used a setting between Dramatic Precious and Glühen and shuffled the timeline mentioned in the _Fight Fire with Fire_ drama CD, but I think I stayed true to the spirit of things.

This is not a happy, fluffy story. I don't want to give anything away by saying more than that, but I figured a warning was in order.

And now, we begin…

* * *

**Blessed be the Hunter**

"Do it again."

Keito looked up, sweat pouring from his face. "You hate me, I know it."

"I don't hate you. Now do it again."

Keito centered himself and secured his footing a fraction of a second before his opponent attacked. He countered in brief, fluid motions, going through his paces, remembering every move he had been taught. It came easily to him now and only his teacher's greater experience kept him on edge. He blocked a kick, feinted, punched, and ducked, but was taken by surprise by a rapid spin and double punch combination that he had not seen before. He blocked the first with some effort, but the second connected, slamming into his chest with a vehemence unbecoming a teacher. The air rushed from his lungs and Keito collapsed on his hands and knees, gasping.

"What the _fuck_ is your problem?" he wheezed when he could breathe again.

Hidaka Ken looked down at him, his face a mask of arrogance and disgust. It was not an expression Keito was accustomed to seeing often and it terrified him when it surfaced. "You have to be ready for surprises," said Ken.

"Fine! Shit! You don't have to be an ass about it!" The black look Keito received brought an apology to his lips, but one look at his teammates huddled against the far wall made him determined to hold it back. "It's a training session for fuck's sake. If you tell me to follow my lesson plan, then that's what I'm expecting. If I'm not working hard enough, I'll take my beating, but you keep throwing new shit in there like you want to see me bloody! What's your fucking grudge?"

Physical punishment beyond that of a regular training session was not one of his teacher's methods, but Keito braced himself for a blow all the same. He had pushed his luck against one of Ken's violent mood swings and was certain that he had failed. But instead of delivering a blow across his student's jaw, Ken paused, lost in thought. He might have been reviewing the fight in his mind because he calmed considerably and appeared contrite. "I haven't taught you that feint yet?"

"Fuck no!"

"Then I'm sorry."

Keito considered this. He was tempted to mention that the moods were occurring more frequently, but his teacher's apologetic smile put him off. In the end, he only shrugged." Okay. Apology accepted."

"And watch your language."

"Yes, Sensei."

"At least we know what we'll be covering tomorrow." Ken signaled to Juri who looked around nervously and stepped forward. Rishu smirked at her, but was otherwise relieved. "You have a chance to even the score," said Ken. "I'll fight both of you at the same level. Don't hold back or I'll be disappointed."

They did not hold back. Keito was secretly pleased with Ken's choice of partners for him. Although Juri tended to be nervous and soft-spoken, her inhibitions melted away in a fight. Together they attacked their teacher who held them off with fine form, even landing a significant hit when their defenses dropped for the barest moment. He was confident and experienced, but, in the end, it was not enough. Keito caught him across the jaw and Juri toppled him, pinning him to the floor. She did not let him up until he declared them the winners.

Ken laughed as he stood, even as he nursed a split lip. For a moment, Keito was unnerved by the sound, as if his teacher had enjoyed the impact. Had, perhaps, even enjoyed the pain. "Showers!" called Ken, clapping his hands for order and signaling for them to move out. "Get washed up and we'll grab something to eat. Juri, I want you to help out with the reports while your smartass buddy and his minion clean up."

Keito stumbled as Ken clapped his shoulder, propelling him forward. Juri made a face at him while Rishu made vulgar signs behind her back, suggesting the true cause of her status as teacher's pet. He was lucky not to be caught as Ken's cell phone was ringing and their teacher fell out of step with them to answer it.

Keito could not hear the conversation, only the low and angry tone that followed him from the room.

* * *

"Aya and Yohji will be coming home tomorrow," said Ken when they finally sat down to a meal of shish kebabs and rice. Rishu presented the platter with a flourish, proud of his ability to cook. He would never be a restaurant-grade chef - that had been his brother - but it could not be denied that he had a flair for food above that of the average household cook. Ken lifted a skewer and eyed it suspiciously before sliding its contents onto his plate and proceeding to use the wooden stake to punctuate his speech. "Be on your best behaviour and don't show off. They'll kick your ass from here to Beijing."

"So they kick harder than you do."

Keito almost regretted his words, uttered mere inches from the waving spike, but Ken grinned wryly. "Yeah, well...there's two of them," he said.

Keito remembered Aya and Yohji although he hadn't really had a chance to get to know the two senior members of Weiss at all. They had left for parts unknown shortly after Juri's arrival, just as soon as they were certain that Ken had settled in with the new recruits. As the last of them to pass through Persia's rigourous series of interviews and physical exams, Juri had been privy to whispered words that neither he nor Rishu had heard.

"Persia doesn't trust him." Juri's reference to their teacher still echoed in Keito's mind. "Something happened...something bad...and Persia doesn't trust him not to lose control. He has to stay where Persia can keep an eye on him."

In defiance to rumour, Ken had been bright and personable. Rishu and Keito had liked him immediately and, despite her misgivings, Juri had warmed to him quickly. If not for his temper, Keito might have dismissed Juri's misgivings entirely. Ken's anger was swift and burned brightly. Normally he released it with the brutal destruction of a small, inanimate object, but all three of his students had felt the sting of his tongue at one time or another and his rush of adrenaline gave training sessions an added dimension of terror until he could work off the excess energy.

Ken's anger was swift, but it was mercifully short, and that was his saving grace.

Juri had once told Keito that she thought Ken was jealous of his teammates. He loved them like brothers, but he hated them too, in some small way, deep inside. Looking at him now, Keito could understand her feelings. Despite his smile, Ken's eyes reflected a vague sadness. Perhaps he, a man of action, resented being left at home to care for the children. He was little more than a child himself, but Keito would be the first to admit that the five years difference between them might have been a gulf five light years across.

"You could always hold them down for us," said Rishu. "You know...give your students a helping hand to show them who's the boss."

"Great idea," said Ken, his smile widening and becoming more sincere. "Then I can have my ass kicked with you. Just remember I'm sacrificing the last one of you standing to make my getaway."

Rishu and Juri laughed, but Keito smiled grimly. He was not so sure the statement was a joke.

"I only saw them once," said Juri, "but they're the ones in the photograph in the hall, right? The taller ones."

"Yeah, that's them," said Ken. He looked wistful, but the moment soon passed. "I think that Persia is thinking of making our services international. He has contacts outside of Japan who are having problems with some of our past enemies. They've been out on a mission of sorts. Information gathering. I can't wait to hear about it. They're all the family I have in the world." There was an awkward pause and Ken smiled. "Well, they were until you came along."

"Why did you stay with us anyway?" said Rishu. He was well aware of Juri's rumour mongering, but liked to hear things from the source.

"Me? Oh, I've had past experience with teaching kids. Sports mostly and younger than any of you, but compared to the alternatives, I was the only man for the job. I doubt Persia trusts Yohji not to grope first and ask for ages later and if you think I'm a moody bastard, you haven't seen Aya when he gets on a roll. But they're good guys when you get to know them. I wouldn't want anyone else watching my back."

Ken's smile faltered a moment and Keito wondered what he wasn't sharing. He waited until his teacher had chewed and swallowed another mouthful of food before asking, "Who's the fourth one? In the picture, I mean."

Pausing on the verge of taking a bite, Ken lowered the food back into his plate and turned all of his attention on Keito. "That's Omi," he said, slowly and deliberately. "Tsukiyono Omi. He was a really good friend of mine. Like a little brother. He's not with us anymore."

Juri cast a quick glance around the room as if she feared that someone might be watching them. Her brow furrowed with shared concern. "Was he killed?"

Ken was genuinely stunned by her question until he replayed the conversation. He grinned. "No, not killed. He's not with the group anymore. He's got a new name now and a new job." Ken became quiet and intense once more. "It's just that different sections don't get to see each other too often, you know? Don't want to compromise their positions."

"But you miss him," said Keito.

"I miss him, yeah. I miss what we were," replied Ken.

"What was he like?" Juri was relaxing now, as she always did when something captured her interest.

Their teacher seemed glad of the chance to talk. He sat back in his chair and gestured expansively, using chopsticks instead of the wooden skewer. It was not much of an improvement. "Omi was the best of us, although I suppose that's debatable. He was a sniper, like you," he said, waving the chopsticks in Rishu's direction, "and good with computers, like you." The chopsticks stabbed the air in front of Juri. "Better than good. The best. Found the most impossible things with the slimmest information. A bit odd in his personal entertainment though. There were a lot more factions back then, all of us working under Persia's orders, but we never saw one another. It was easy to feel alone. He liked to look up strange police reports - the stuff you don't get to see in the papers - just to reassure himself that we weren't the strangest boys on the block. He'd tell them to me sometimes, in the dark, over hot drinks." Ken grinned. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't get a kick out of them, but I never felt the need to go looking. Still, in its own way, it was kind of a ritual. Like stories around a campfire to keep the ghosts away."

"Weird hobby," said Rishu.

Keito was intrigued, as much by his teacher's interest in the subject as the subject itself. "What was the strangest story he ever told you?"

"Yeah, cough up," said Rishu.

"No. No, I couldn't tell you that," said Ken, raising his hands to ward off their protests. It did not stop Rishu in the least.

"Oh, come on. It isn't our age, is it? This Omi couldn't have been any older than we are."

"No, he wasn't, but talk between peers is different than talk between a teacher and his students. This subject is...unbecoming."

"Ooo...big words," said Rishu.

"Is it unbecoming to warn us?" said Juri with a change of tactics. "We're being sent out to see the worst of humanity. Is it unbecoming to tell us what extremes might be waiting for us? If nothing else, it will keep the ghosts away."

Ken looked at her so long and hard that Juri began to fidget. Finally, a quirky grin split his face and his eyes lit with the wild mischief that Keito had come to distrust. "Well, okay then, if you're so keen. But don't tell Persia; he'll have my head. Okay with this Keito? You're kinda quiet."

Keito shrugged. "I asked first, didn't I? Go ahead. I'm not squeamish."

"Fine...fine," said Ken, waving his chopsticks around in dismissal. Keito could almost feel the energy building up inside his teacher as he delayed his narrative with another bite of food. Despite his protests, Ken_wanted_ to tell this story. Perhaps even needed to tell it.

"Remember," he said, "that this was told to me by someone else several years ago so I'll be a little fuzzy about the details."

Rishu grinned. "Right...senility is setting in. Get on with it, old man, or we'll all be needing hearing aids before you're done."

Ken reached into the bowl of the pickled onions that Juri favoured and bounced one of them off Rishu's skull. "Shut-up and respect your elders. Damned brats. As I was saying, this story's told and retold so the details might be wrong, but it's still the strangest story ever told to me.

"Now, this didn't happen in Japan, understand - Omi was just as fond of international freak shows as the homegrown kind - but I don't remember the exact location. Europe, probably. Maybe America. At any rate, the report was supposedly filed by a young man who'd been out camping with a bunch of his friends. They'd gone far away into the forest so that no one would disturb them. Probably because they had alcohol with them and none of them were of legal age to drink. They also had drugs, according to their friend.

"Anyway, it seems that they'd been drinking and built a fire. It was a little creepy out in the woods so, naturally, they got around to telling ghost stories and then just any strange story they could think of. One of them - an anthropology student, I think - talked about some of his studies and the habits of certain hunting tribes. Apparently there was a rite performed when the hunting was bad that was supposed to bring back the prey. What they'd do, see, was sew a tribe mate into the preserved skin of an animal and re-enact a hunt, spearing the animal player with blunt sticks. Some scientific rumours went to far as to suggest that the tribe mate was killed as a sacrifice to the gods of the hunt, but apparently there's no archeological proof that such a thing ever happened." Ken paused to take a bite and shrugged. "It's news to me either way. I never studied any of that shi... Anthropology," he corrected, firing a wink at Keito.

"Well, true or not, the kids thought it would be great fun to have a mock hunt of their own. It seems that one of the guys had found an old bearskin rug at some sort of market. He'd cleaned it up so that it looked pretty good and put it in the back of his van, so..."

"Why would he want a bearskin rug in the back of his van?" said Rishu.

Ken stopped cold, his stunned expression vying for dominance with the blood creeping into his face. Rallying, he offered Rishu a lopsided grin. "To impress girls," he said in a low voice. It amused Keito to think that the man who would happily beat them into pudding could be brought low by teenaged mating rituals.

"I don't see what's so impressive about it," Rishu snorted. "Back of a van? Like sucking exhaust much? Shit, if you're going to be in a vehicle when the urge hits, pull over and get a motel room."

Ken's grin softened into wistfulness as though the comment brought back memories. Juri took a quick bite and looked away as she chewed. Keito thought that_she_ might have been interested in a bearskin rug, in the back of a van or elsewhere. When the silence grew too awkward, Ken spoke again.

"The reason this guy had a bearskin rug in his van or whether or not he was successful with it isn't really the point. The point was that he'd cleaned it up and it was looking pretty good. So he hauled it out and they drew matches to see who would get to be the bear. One of the girls picked the short one. The report said she was a quiet girl, but she'd been drinking and probably taking drugs - the report wasn't very clear about that - so she was ready to go along with anything. No one was sure if she'd make a very good bear, but she'd won the draw so they tied her into the bearskin with the head covering hers like a hood.

"She got into it right away, growling and pawing on all fours and pretending to root through their bags for food. It sort of became a game to keep her away by poking her with sticks or trying to distract her. She played along by taking a slap at anyone who wasn't aggressive enough to scare her.

"Some of the kids started getting carried away and using bigger sticks and that made the girl mad. She got more aggressive with them. I guess the claws were still attached to the paws of the bear because apparently she cut one of the guys when she took a swipe at him. Nothing life-threatening, but it pissed him off, so he started hitting her harder, screaming for a bear hunt. Some of the others joined in, but the guy who made the report, he started thinking that things were really getting out of hand and got scared. He yelled at his friends to stop, that the bear-girl was really in pain now, but they wouldn't. He yelled at the girl to just get up and run, but she wouldn't get off her hands and knees. She just kept on growling and bellowing and trying to fight them with the bear claws. That's when the guy freaked out and ran into the bush, toward where he thought the road would be, looking for help. He finally stumbled onto the highway, waved down a car, and called the police."

"Then what happened?" said Juri, her intense focus proof of her interest in the story.

"Nothing, that's the end of the guy's report."

"Oh, like the police didn't add anything to the end of that," said Rishu.

Ken turned to look at Keito. "What do you think?"

"That your brown eyes are a sign of how full of bullshit you really are," Keito grinned, feigning insolence. "But, bullshit or not, Rishu's right. The police would have added something and if they hadn't, no storyteller in the world would be caught dead with a piss-ass ending like that."

"First of all," said Ken, jabbing in Keito's direction with his utensils, "this isn't my story, it's a story told to me - from a report, I might add - that is supposed to be true and the truth seldom comes in neat little packages for your entertainment. Secondly, I didn't want to put you off your food by telling you that when the police got there, they found a bunch of stunned and weeping kids and the bear-girl dead and gutted, her body still tied to the bearskin."

The revelation was met, not with cries of disgust, but with groans and jeers. "Did you steal that from late-night TV?" said Rishu. "Please tell me you didn't make up something that lame yourself. I'd lose all respect for you."

Juri slapped Rishu's arm. "You never had it to begin with; don't try to suck up now. It sounds just like an urban legend to me."

It was Keito's first instinct to laugh, but his teacher's smile, calm and somehow cold, restrained him. He expected anger, insult, but when Ken spoke, it was with an amiable nonchalance. "Whatever it is, it's the strangest story that Omi ever told me. I think it disturbed him, although how it could compare to some of the things we saw every day is beyond me. Maybe he didn't like thinking that people were just animals wearing masks and calling themselves human. Or maybe he didn't want to think about what happens to hunters when they can't hunt. Anyway, it was also the last story that Omi ever told me."

Ken stood and began to gather up his dishes, the same small smile fixed in place. "I think I've had enough for tonight. You guys finish up, I'm going to get started on some reports. Come and find me when you're done Juri." And, with that, Ken left the room.

"Yeah, Juri. Go see him when you're done. He's got a bearskin rug for you out in the vaa-aan," said Rishu, making kissing noises. Juri threatened to punch him so he switched seats and resumed his kissing.

"You're such an asshole. Keito, tell him he's an asshole."

"You're an asshole, Rishu," Keito obliged, but he could not bring himself to join in the banter.

"Oh, thank you. You're as much the teacher's pet as she is." Rishu jerked a thumb at Juri who glanced nervously over her shoulder in case they had been heard. "Fine by me though, it keeps me from getting beat up once a session." When Keito did not reply, he rolled his eyes. "You didn't seriously believe all that, did you?"

Keito hesitated before answering. "Nah, it's a load of fucking bullshit, but it meant something to Ken. It's not that he believes it," Keito added quickly, "but something about it probably did creep out this friend of his. Might have made him worry. I'm not pushing my luck by making fun of our teacher's friends. I value my fucking ass way too much for that."

Juri fiddled with her rice. "I'm sure...I'm _sure_ I heard a story just like that somewhere before. It was just an urban legend."

Keito considered the remains of his meal and shoved his plate away. "Yeah, well...before I came here, Weiss was an urban legend too."

Juri nodded. She sat in silence a moment longer, and then began to collect her plates. "I think I'm done for the night. I don't know how long the reports are going to take so don't count on me for a game of poker."

"Me neither," said Keito. "Still have an essay to finish."

Rishu grinned and stretched. "Workaholics, both of you. I don't see the point in keeping us in school, even part time. Assassins with diplomas...makes for a killer resume." He chuckled briefly at his own joke, then picked his dishes up off the table and gave Keito a nudge. "I'm washing. Easy in, easy out. Then I think I'll hang out on the Ledge with a good book. Maybe a _horror_ story. What say you, Chief?"

The Ledge was a tiny balcony outside the window of one of the storage rooms. The window had long since been painted shut. The only access to the Ledge was a climb down from the roof. "I think you're going to get your ass killed one of these days," said Keito.

"I don't go drunk and I don't go stoned. Besides, what good is a sniper who can't get into high places?"

Keito shook his head. "Just be careful, man. That's all I'm saying."

* * *

Aya and Yohji arrived amid a muted fanfare and Ken's enthusiastic greeting. They seemed no less happy to see him although Aya took Ken aside for a brief, but intense, conversation. Keito watched their gestures from afar, tight and controlled, eventually relaxing and warming until they rejoined the group, Ken lightly propelled by Aya's hand on his shoulder. Celebratory drinks were passed around. An outsider might have thought the three had been apart for years, not weeks.

Contrary to Ken's dire warnings, Aya smiled quite often in a quiet, thoughtful way although he freely admitted that the illness of a family member had once kept him sullen and his position with Weiss had filled him with guilt. Since coming to terms with his life and his job - not to mention the recovery of his treasured sister - he had become philosophical in his approach. Intelligent and soft-spoken, Keito was drawn to him as a conversationalist although it was studious Juri with whom Aya connected best. Keito did not worry about her. Aya treated her with the same reverence he might have once offered his sister.

Nor did Yohji seem to pose a threat to her. He did nothing to dispel Ken's description of him as a lecher - in fact, he seemed to revel in it - but he treated Juri with a sort of charming respect that was only as flirtatious as exaggerated flattery would allow. He got along well with Rishu who was as easy-going as he was himself, if cruder and less sophisticated. Keito could see how a little time in Yohji's presence might forge Rishu into a man with something resembling class.

He himself was too rough around the edges for such refinements, but Keito enjoyed the man's company all the same. If anything, he wondered how either of them managed to tolerate Ken for any length of time. Aya was quiet and composed, Yohji laid-back and relaxed, but Ken was boisterous and full of faintly violent energy. There was camaraderie between them - the kind that came by way of shared experience - but they would not have chosen one another for that purpose. Not unless one or all of them had changed over the years and they had accepted that change as a matter of course. There was also the possibility that their former teammate, Omi, had bridged the gap with an energy that was more controlled than Ken's.

In any event, the atmosphere was friendly in the house Persia had assigned to them although it did take some getting used to, living with two additional people. There was bathroom time to sort out and hot water usage, not to mention mealtimes and reservation of the open room they used for training. Once these details were taken care of, however, the days ran smoothly. Keito walked Juri to school every morning, leaving Rishu to run behind, and continued his training every afternoon. Having cautioned his pupils against the perils of showboating, Ken did not hesitate to brag on their behalf. He was proud of them and the training sessions became as much a demonstration of their skills as a learning experience. Keito found his teacher's confidence heartening even though it meant being pitted against Aya with some regularity and losing miserably.

Not so miserably, he decided as he watched Juri go down in defeat. He had kept Aya occupied a long time by even Weiss's standards and the man had far more experience than he. Aya had praised him for his work and Ken had beamed silently in his corner of the room - the first genuine smile of pleasure that Keito could remember.

"You've made a great start, all of you," Aya said one day, helping Rishu to his feet. "Better than Persia expected in just a few months. You will be taught mission-related skills next."

"Haven't we been working on mission skills already?" said Juri.

"In a sense. Ken has taught you to take care of yourselves. This is useful when confronting a target, yes, but it's also a form of self-defense. There's still time to change your minds." Aya dismissed emotion, his voice becoming cold and unnaturally calm. "Remember what we do," he said. "We kill people. We kill those who are above or beyond the law for the common good, but we kill. The judge and jury that give us our orders is only a man, as human as any other. Who's to say that he is right?

"And yet, you must assume that he _is_ right because some nights it will be the only truth that can save you from despair. On those nights you'll question your place and you _must_ be able to look back and see that the decision to join was your own, that you were given an opportunity to change your minds and chose to become creatures of darkness in the service of light. You will have a couple of weeks to think it over. I suggest you examine your reasons for joining Weiss and decide if they will comfort you in the early hours when fear is strongest."

It was a silly speech, Keito decided a few days later, but it had not seemed silly at the time. There was something in Aya's voice, or maybe in his eyes, something utterly sincere, that lent credibility to his drama. Ken had merely grinned through the whole affair, obviously accustomed to the speech and the speaker and taking delight in both. When Keito caught his teacher alone on the roof one night, he asked about it.

Ken smiled and looked out over the city. "That's just Aya's way," he said. "He used to be that grim all the time. Well, nearly all the time. He was a good guy on the whole, but worried about his sister. She's all right now and Aya's getting better, but he still has his moments. I think he actually enjoys them now. They feed his inner drama queen."

"Drama queen?"

"When you get to know him, you'll see. Just like Yohji is a gentleman at heart. Sure, he'll make the most outrageous passes at women, but he only treats them as badly as they want to be treated."

Keito stepped closer to the rail. Unlike Ken, he only trusted it with a fraction of his weight. Leaning awkwardly beside his teacher, he dared a more personal question. "You sound like you missed them."

"It's good having them around," Ken replied. "I feel more human when I'm with them. They remind me of what I was and should be."

"And you call Aya a fucking drama queen."

Ken affected a wry smile. "I didn't call him a fucking anything. I'm not even sure that's something he does."

"I know. I know. Language," Keito snorted. "Like the targets give a shit."

"There _are_ standards. And you need to be refined enough to fit into any company. I'm not, of course, but Aya was around so we just sent him undercover."

"So what's all this bull about feeling human?"

Ken grew serious. The sombre attitude was unusual enough for Keito to take note. "There was some bad business before you were recruited. You know about that?"

"Some. A lot of people died, including some trainees from another sector and a couple of operatives that were close to you."

"That's not the whole of it, but that's enough," said Ken. "I was having serious doubts then. Sometimes I still do although I like to think I'm calmer now. You've been good for that. You, Juri, and Rishu."

Keito hesitated, wondered if he was doing the right thing, and then spoke. "I heard a rumour that you'd gone crazy and Persia didn't trust you with an international incident. That's why you got stuck babysitting."

He expected anger or denial, but not laughter. When Ken had composed himself, he shared the joke with his pupil. "Of course you'd hear that. It's the reason I gave Persia when I asked him to keep me behind. I was seeing a counselor at the time and didn't trust myself. We'd had no plans to start training then. Persia suggested that later, so I wouldn't be inactive. He thought I might enjoy it."

"Did you?"

Ken gave the question due consideration. "Yeah," he said and Keito did not doubt his sincerity. "I enjoyed it. I mean, it's not a life I'd wish on a dog, but the life you live will be your choice, not mine. It feels good to know that, if you want to go out there and face death every night, you're going out there knowing how to take care of yourself. I'm not teaching you the killing stuff," he said, watching the flow of nighttime traffic. "You can use it that way - I'm not going to kid myself that you can't - but until you do, it's just about keeping yourself alive. Knowing that I'm keeping people alive...helps. It doesn't sound like much of a distinction, but it's important to me."

"Keeps you human?"

"Yeah. Oh fuck...yeah."

"Language," said Keito.

"Eat me, you little shit."

Keito was ready for the attack and dodged it easily, countering with a punch of his own. Ken laughed and threw himself into the fight. There was no tension or anger; it was all in good fun. Keito even found himself enjoying their little sparring match. Without the tension of a planned lesson that came from trying to please, Keito felt relaxed and more in tune with his own body. Exercises he had found difficult were executed with fluid motion.

They danced away from the railing in their pattern of kicks and punches and Keito held his own until Ken pulled an unfamiliar move. This did not disrupt Keito's train of thought as it might have in front of Juri and Rishu, and he countered it smoothly, but underestimated its impact and felt himself losing his balance. Half expecting his teacher to finish him with a kick to the leg, he was surprised when Ken grabbed his arm to steady him and clapped him on the back.

"You see what I mean when I tell you you're too stiff?" Ken said. "Just relax and you'll do much better. You're my pride, Keito. All three of you."

"Will you be teaching us the mission skills too?"

"Nope. Aya's going to take care of the offensive and subterfuge and Yohji will probably train you in investigative techniques. If there's another mission on the continent, I'll probably go out with whoever's not on teaching duty. If nothing much is going on, I'll probably join you and do the exercises as a student. I could use the practise. Most of it involves waiting and patience was never my strong suit," Ken admitted. "I think it will swing that way. The last mission was basically a clean-up job since everything went to pieces not too long ago. I think Persia's doing some re-organizing which means a lot of down time for us."

Ken stepped away and drifted back to the railing. "Sometimes I hate this place," he said.

"Rishu loves it at night," said Keito, joining him. "He says it's easier to believe that the world is at peace."

"If he stays, he might change his mind," said Ken. "Night is when the monsters come out...and you'll get to meet them all personally."

"Sounds bad."

"Not as bad as looking in the mirror in the morning and finding out they've followed you home."

There were no words to follow such a statement. Ken let the silence hang in the air for a moment before breaking it. "Rishu comes up here often?"

"He hangs out on the Ledge." Keito dared the railing enough to lean over the side and point out the narrow balcony. "He sits there to read, I think."

Ken frowned. It was not merely an expression of disapproval; he seemed to be analyzing the situation. A hundred different scenarios. A thousand different outcomes. "He'd have to come over the roof, wouldn't he?"

"Yeah. He says he wouldn't be much of a sniper if he couldn't get into high places."

"Tell him to stop," said Ken. "Better yet, I'll tell him myself. That climb is too tricky to dick around with."

"He's a good climber."

"No." The word carried an air of finality. "Bad enough we have to send you out to risk your necks; you won't be doing it around here."

Keito shrugged. There was an edge to his teacher's voice that made him uneasy. It was probably best to back away from the subject. "I don't like it either and tell him all the time. Maybe it will make a difference if it comes from you. I couldn't guarantee anything though."

"It'll have to do," said Ken. "I'm heading in for a beer. Are you staying out here?"

"Yeah, I think I will."

Ken raised a hand in farewell and headed for the door. "Fine. Don't take too long. You've still got classes in the morning."

Keito watched his teacher leave, and then turned to look out over the city. From somewhere in the dark came the whoop and howl of predators lost in the chase.

"Monsters," he whispered to the moon.

* * *

It began with an accident.

In actual fact, it began with several weeks of nothing in particular, but Keito thought of the accident as a trigger of sorts.

Ken's training sessions came to an end shortly after Aya and Yohji's arrival. There was always more to learn, he assured them, but, for now, the grace period was finished. Keito was pleased to find himself greatly improved after his night on the roof and his new, relaxed style of fighting helped him to keep up with his teacher during most of the exercises. Twice, he even won.

On these occasions, Ken had snarled like a beast as he went down. The first time, Keito had very nearly backed away, but managed to control his instincts and keep his teacher pinned. Both times, Ken had undergone a miraculous transformation once a winner was announced. He then accepted the defeats graciously with words of pride and praise for Keito's achievement.

Despite this, Keito avoided Ken for a good day after winning a match. There was something coiled in his teacher's eyes that didn't like to lose, no matter what his mouth might say.

After their initial training, the time came for them to choose between their lives and a life with Weiss. Keito was not surprised to find that all had decided to stay.

"Someone's got to," Rishu said, "and it's not like I've got anything to go back to." An explosion had killed his father and brother as well as ten other tenants. "It was only meant as a distraction, you know? Don't want the authorities on your tail? Kill a bunch of poor families. It's not like they're good for anything else."

"They use people," said Juri. "They use and use and use. I'm not going to be a victim." A black market slave ring had claimed her mother and sister, but she had escaped with the help of an undercover policeman and passed along to his family. The man himself had been killed when his identity was discovered. "Death doesn't scare me if I can save just one life. I owe that much to the man I thought of as my father."

Fine sentiments, but Keito knew the truth. No matter how noble the intentions, no one joined Weiss without a need for revenge. "I just want to get the bastards who shot up my family," he said. "Assholes taking pot-shots at families because they've got nothing better to do while waiting for the next drug deal to come along. Wrong place, wrong fucking time. And the guy they worked for bought them their freedom, just like that." He snapped his fingers.

The others watched him in silence, facing their own selfish desires. In the moment of silence, Keito heard the sound of movement and turned to face the door. A shadow pulled away from its brothers and stepped into the light. It was Aya.

"And what," he asked, "will you do when you've had your revenge?"

Keito shrugged. "Stay on, I guess. Like Rishu says, I've got nowhere else to go. Besides, satisfying myself won't save the next little kid."

The corner of Aya's mouth twitched into a half-smile.

"I have heard that argument before, but answers are never so easy. The world isn't black and white, no matter how much we would like it to be. That is why you will be asked to obey Persia's orders without question, even if you disagree. You will be tempted."

The look of nervousness returned to Juri's face. "Why do you say that?"

"That is one of the things I intend to teach you," Aya replied. His features softened and he smiled. "But there's no use in worrying about it now. You should head up to the computer room. Ken is doing some research for me online and isn't nearly as skilled or as efficient as Omi was. I understand you're quite the hacker. I'm sure he'd benefit from your help."

Juri nodded and left the room. Rishu stretched and yawned. "I think I'll read for a while and turn in. You two have fun."

Keito watched him go. Aya said nothing more and his silence became oppressive.

"I think I'll take a walk," Keito said when he could no longer bear it.

"A good idea," Aya said. "You should get to know the city as well as you're able. On dark nights, when your vision is obscured by dirt or by blood, your feet should be able to bring you home by the quickest and safest route. I think I'll work on my lesson plan a little bit longer and turn in myself. Enjoy your walk."

_Enjoy?_ Keito thought as he stepped from the building. _After such an encouraging speech?_

He stood on the sidewalk and looked up at the building. A light went on in the storage room leading to the Ledge. A dim glow emanated from the back of the house where he'd left Aya. Yohji's room was nearly dark but for the dull, flickering glow of a small television set. In the computer room, elongated silhouettes moved against the curtains, arms entwined.

Keito turned, closed his eyes, and walked into the city.

* * *

Aya's training sessions began immediately despite a period of chaos resulting from class changes, frustration, and fatigue. Since most of the lessons occurred at night, other obligations had to accommodate his students' need for sleep. He remained charmingly unsympathetic to their plight. "The adjustment is all part of the lesson," he told them. "Your lives will be in a constant state of upheaval from now on. Those who can't adapt are best left behind."

"You're the lucky ones," said Ken, working alongside them. "If he was a really sadistic bastard, he would keep you up all night and then make you wake up to open a shop at some ungodly hour. Sure, maybe you open your doors at nine o'clock, but there's cleaning to do, tills to count down, and all those damned arrangements to make."

"What kind of arrangements?" said Rishu.

Ken considered his answer. "You know...arrangements. There are always arrangements to make. More in some jobs than in others."

"Meetings and shit," Keito volunteered and frowned when Juri laughed.

"Arrangements," said Ken, refusing to say more.

Business was as slow as Ken predicted. No one was sent to the mainland. No one was sent out at night. Aya remained their teacher, relying on Ken as an assistant in the field. He sent them on fact-finding missions, search and rescue operations, and stakeouts. His favourite game involved sending them after a target to track him, line up what they considered to be an effective attack, and report back with their location, time, place, and method of assassination.

Yohji often volunteered to be this target. He ambled easily through the city's nightlife, enjoying himself while the students worked. The first time he acted as prey, he seemed not to notice them. They prided themselves on their stealth as they handed in their reports. They were silently shocked to receive a report in return detailing the number of times Yohji had noticed suspicious activity or would have been able to turn their attacks against them. On subsequent nights, any student clumsy enough to be detected soon lost the target in a crowd only to find him again when his garrote was around his - or her - neck.

"That one broke the skin," Keito hissed as he cleaned the cut. "The fucking skin. These are the days I'd trade places with you, Juri."

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Juri, tracing a faded bruise around her own throat.

"You don't get the choke hold nearly as often as we do."

"Maybe I'm just better in the stealth department."

"Maybe you're the teacher's pet," said Rishu.

'Which one?" said Keito.

Juri snorted and stalked out of the room. "Ooo...you pissed her off, but good," said Rishu. "That was a good one, 'Which one?' Wish I'd thought of it."

"How old is she, anyway," asked Keito, feigning casual curiosity.

"Nearly nineteen, I think," said Rishu. "Spent some time as a professional gymnast. Doesn't look it though, does she? Why do you ask? Have a thing for older women?"

"Just wondering," said Keito, genuinely surprised. "Professional gymnast? Might be the reason she doesn't get fucked up as much as we do."

"Nah. I think Yohji's just not the type to strangle women."

Keito stared into the mirror and prodded at the cut. A thin line of blood welled up. "I don't know," he said. "I think he could manage it if he had to. I think they all could."

"It's not that there's no crime being committed," said Yohji one night over dinner. Meals were an impromptu meeting time and often used to discuss the day's events. "But it's better left to the police whenever possible. Weiss only hunts beyond the reach of the law. What we do is murder. It's illegal, but will be tolerated as long as we only deal with those who also get away with murder. Pass the rice, please, Juri. You're a sweetheart."

"What if innocents are involved?" said Juri, looking worried. "I mean, do we need to protect our identities or..."

"If they aren't on the duty list, we can't kill them," said Yohji. "Seeing our faces doesn't make much of a difference, not like it did when we had a public cover. Even then..." Yohji shrugged. "There's no record of our existence that can be traced, so what does it matter? We kill only the targets."

"There are allowances for self-defense," Ken added when Yohji paused to take a bite. "I mean, some nut comes at you with a weapon, you've got to protect yourself. Try to immobilize them or knock them out, but don't hold back if you're in a life or death situation. We want the life you save to be your own."

"It _can_ be tricky though," said Yohji. He turned to Ken. "You remember that job with the club owner?"

Ken's eyes widened as he recalled the mission. "Shit...we must have staked him out for_weeks_ getting the hang of his schedule. Thursdays are boring, right?" he said, turning to the others and seeking their agreement with a wave of his hand. They nodded on instinct. "Right. Always at home alone that night. Some sort of private ritual: bottle of wine, good food...the works. So we show up on a Thursday night and...bam!"

"Half the hooker population of Tokyo is there," Yohji supplied.

"I still can't believe I was on guard duty for this," said Aya, faintly smiling.

Ken laughed. "We must have all gone dumb from shock and stopped calling in. I just remember hearing Aya shouting for us over the radio."

"Only dumb? I thought Id' have to jump start you to get your heart going again." Yohji dropped his voice to a conspiratorial level and nudged Juri. "Took a week for the blood to drain out of his face. Never seen anything like it."

Ken punched him on the arm. "At least my eyes were open. What about Omi wandering around with one hand clamped to his face?"

"Ladies...ladies,_please_...put on a robe," Yohji begged in a quavering voice, shielding his eyes with one hand while pretending to feel his way with the other. "I swear, he copped more feels than I did and I was aiming."

"In the end they managed to evacuate the women and take care of the target," said Aya. "In the meantime, I was nearly trampled when people ran, screaming, from the house."

"Nearly crushed to death by half-naked women. My heart bleeds for you, Aya," said Yohji. "The point being that, despite everything, we managed to stick to the target. Unless you're faced with hostile resistance, there's usually a way."

"You didn't seriously blush for a week?" said Rishu, giving Ken an incredulous look.

"You're right," said Yohji. "It was more like two."

Ken snorted. "Oh, shut-up."

"I didn't think you were ever so shy," said Juri, lowering her eyes.

Yohji grinned. "I'll bet I can still make him blush." He leaned over and whispered something into Ken's ear. Keito saw his teacher struggle to keep control, but blood rose slowly and surely to his cheeks. He hung his head demurely and, for just a moment, Keito saw a Ken that might have existed three years ago.

"Maybe we should just tell them about Persia," said Ken, his ears burning a bright red.

"Persia's been watching you," said Aya. "He's very impressed with your progress.

"Watching us? Seriously?" said Rishu, eyebrows raised. "I haven't seen him around. At least, I haven't seen anyone watching me."

"Don't underestimate Persia's abilities and influence," said Yohji. "Besides, it's been slow. Most of the crime factions we usually fight - abroad and at home - have been scrambling to regroup. Persia's waiting to see what kind of scum floats to the top. What better way to spend the time than supervising the new recruits?"

"Will we get to meet him?" said Juri.

Aya shook his head. "No one meets Persia. He must keep his distance from us if he's to use our skills effectively. He uses messengers and go-betweens like Rex. You'll meet her the next time we get a mission."

"He's very impressed though," said Ken. "He mentioned it in his remarks on our reports. And he's grateful for your decision to stay on. You might even get a letter of thanks. Persia's big on the personal touch."

"When he can manage it," said Yohji. "It's not usually safe." He stood up. "I'm getting a drink. Anyone else want anything?"

"Any soda left?" said Rishu.

"I'll check."

Yohji returned with two open beers and two open sodas. The first soda he gave to Rishu and the second he offered to Juri who had nearly finished her first. She refused. Keito didn't care for soda much and passed it up as well. Yohji shrugged and put it in the middle of the table. The first beer he kept for himself, the second he gave to Ken.

Ken looked it over solemnly, cast the slightest of glances in Juri's direction, and put it aside. "I already had one," he said, grabbing the unclaimed soda.

"That hasn't bothered you for a long time," Aya said, smiling.

"Maybe it should. Especially now." Ken took a long drink and surveyed the new recruits. "We should start you all on hand guns soon. The sooner you learn how not to blow your foot off, the better."

"Good point," said Aya. He turned to Keito. "We don't usually use guns - they draw too much attention and are too easy to trace - but it's good to know how to use one properly. You might need it one day."

"Yeah, we need something that's less conspicuous," said Rishu. "Like your sword."

Keito expected Aya to dismiss his student's comment, but instead he smiled. "Many fine, upstanding citizens are avid collectors," he said. "The mistake would be in trying to conceal it."

Keito could feel Rishu gearing up for an argument and decided he didn't feel up to any more talk of weapons. "I'd be willing to learn anything you want to teach me," he said. "I figure you must know best since you've been doing this for years and are still alive. Me? So far the only thing I've got a knack for is washing dishes. If no one minds, I think I'll start cleaning up."

"Leave it," said Aya. "I think you've all earned a break. Yohji and I will clean up. Ken, you can take care of the reports, as usual. The rest of you are free for the evening. Go out or stay in, but have some fun. Make use of every opportunity to relax. You won't get many." He picked up his and Keito's dishes and carried them into the kitchen area.

Fun, thought Keito. What did one do for fun? He didn't think that any of them had thought of fun for quite some time. A single glance told him that Rishu planned to stay in and read as he always did. Juri was already asking Ken if he needed any help and being turned away. Keito couldn't decide if the routine was comforting or merely a rut. "We should go to a movie," he said.

Rishu raised his hands. "Sorry, man. You're not my type. Thanks for the offer though."

"You and me then," said Keito to his other teammate. Juri paused, mouth open, and glanced around as if awaiting a protest. "Oh, come on, Juri. It's not like it's a fucking date. I'll get you home in time to be tucked in."

Juri glared at him. "And what do you mean by that?"

It took Keito several moments to decipher her stare. He grinned. "I mean I'll have you home so you can go to bed early like a little girl."

"Oh."

"You should go," said Ken. "Everyone needs a night out. Especially if he's paying."

"Hey, I just said this wasn't a date!" said Keito.

"Of course not," said Yohji, "but it would be such at shame to leave a nice young woman to her own devices."

"All right! All right! I'll pay your ticket, Juri," Keito sighed. "You're on your own for food."

Juri smiled. "Okay, then. I accept."

Yohji pointed a finger at Rishu. "You should go too."

"I'm not paying for him!" said Keito. "He's man enough to take care of himself."

Rishu laughed. "Don't worry about it. I'd really rather stay here. I know I don't have the most sophisticated taste in books, but they are entertainment."

Yohji looked at Aya. "Are they really?"

Aya nodded solemnly. "This is the kind of thing I keep telling you. There _are_ other people who read books for reasons that don't involve work or school."

"That's very fascinating," said Yohji. "I should make a note to try that sometime. You two have fun. Show Rishu what he's missing."

Keito cast one last glance over his shoulder as he escorted Juri from the room. Rishu waved goodbye to him merrily. It was the last time Keito would see him smile.

* * *

It began with an accident, but first it began with a movie. A science fiction movie, without too much romance or too much gratuitous violence. A safe movie for two people who were not on a date.

Keito walked Juri home through the city streets, choosing the least noisy venues without thought or purpose. They walked casually in shadow where others sought the bright halo of the street lamps. "I just noticed," said Keito. "We're keeping out of sight."

Juri looked around, her furtive look tamed to appear natural. "The lessons are settling in, I guess. I have to admit, I'm a bit surprised."

"And pleased." Juri blushed and Keito grinned. "You want to tell him, don't you?"

"It's Aya who's teaching us this," said Juri quietly.

"So? Ken can do it too. I'm sure he'll be proud if he's not snarling over those fucking reports," said Keito. "It takes him forever when you're not in there with him, which is the opposite of what should be happening if you ask me."

"I didn't."

Keito saluted her. "Good enough. Any idea why he's the one doing them? Aya would be a better choice. I get the feeling he likes paperwork."

Juri shrugged. "I don't know. I just know he sends me away right before the reports are ready to go. Maybe he knows the person receiving them and wants to add personal notes."

"I thought Persia was receiving them."

"They would be given to a go-between first. Maybe a secretary," said Juri.

"Nothing like that," said Keito, "guaranteed. He's very focused on you."

"You think so?"

"Yeah."

"How can you be sure?"

_If I wasn't sure, would I be jealous?_

Keito nearly spoke the words out loud. He had not even realized until that moment that he_was_ jealous. Juri was not his type. Rather, she would not have been his type if she had not chosen to be a member of Weiss. Having chosen, she understood the need that would drive a person to this choice. Understanding was a precious thing.

Spotting a snack bar, Keito gave Juri a nudge. "Show up in the computer room bearing gifts of food," he said. "You know he'll still be working."

Juri looked at him, eyebrows raised. Then she smiled. "That is a wonderful idea. Thank you." She kissed him briefly on the cheek and ran down to the stand.

Keito watched her go. Far ahead of them, he could make out the looming shape of their building. A light shone in the window of the third-level storage room.

* * *

Television was a bore and Keito had never been much for reading. He exercised for a while, but soon grew restless. He did not want to think of his training right now. He did not want to think of his purpose. He certainly did not want to think of the silhouettes in the computer room. He wanted air.

Keito climbed up to the roof.

It was a beautiful night: quiet, with just the hint of a breeze. A long rope was fastened securely around one of the ventilation units whose base blended seamlessly into the roof of the building. Rishu might be taking risks, but he wasn't stupid about where he tied his lifeline. Keito considered climbing down to him to see if he minded some company - the Ledge would be a quiet place to view the city - but decided against it. He was not afraid of heights, but he did not trust his own abilities in any but the most necessary of circumstances.

Out of other options, Keito sat down on the roof and leaned back to look at the stars. There weren't many visible - the bright lights of the city drowned out the weakest ones - but those he could see scrawled familiar patterns across the night sky. He was not an expert in astronomy, but constellations carried stories from his childhood and were one of the few things he could depend on, night after night.

The creaking of a door drew his attention toward the stairwell. Juri emerged and looked around the roof, finally catching sight of him. She smiled and shifted nervously from foot to foot. "I didn't realize anyone was up here."

"Rishu's down on the Ledge too," said Keito. "Trouble in Paradise?"

Juri frowned then seemed to decide that annoyance was not worth her time. "No, just that time of the night again. Last few minutes before the reports are sent out. I said I'd wait up here if he wanted to join me. I didn't realize there was a general meeting."

"If you're done in the computer room, there's some stuff I wouldn't mind checking out online," Keito lied. "I'll get out of your hair."

"Do you know how late Rishu usually reads?"

Keito grinned. "You could always ask him to leave." Juri gave him an incredulous look. "He reads out there because it's quiet," Keito said, "not because he can't do it anywhere else. Privacy's pretty scarce around here. He's had his share. Tell him to get the fuck out so you can have yours. It's legal. I'll show you."

He led Juri to the edge of the building where the line tumbled down the side to the balcony on the third floor. Rishu sat there, bent over his book. He appeared to be asleep. Leaning cautiously over the railing, Keito called down to him. "Hey, Rishu! Wake up, man! Juri needs a favour."

Rishu woke with a start, looked around quickly and, realizing where he was, glanced upward. "Hey, guys. I guess I dozed off."

"Guess so," Keito agreed. "Juri needs the roof. You want to come in for a bit?"

"Needs it?" Rishu raised his eyebrows. "For like...you know?"

Rishu demonstrated by way of crude sign language. Keito sighed and was thankful that Juri was behind him and could not see. "Don't be a fuckwit. Get your ass up here. If you're going to be sleeping, you're better off indoors anyway."

"Yeah yeah...I'm coming. Tell her she can have the romper room for the night."

"Tell her yourself. She's standing behind me."

"Oh, thanks for the warning. Sorry, Juri!" Rishu called, standing unsteadily and reaching for the rope.

His disorientation worried Keito. "Are you good to climb?"

"I'm fine. Just...shaking off the sleep. It's not far."

Keito agreed that the distance was not far for someone in good health, but Rishu climbed slowly, choosing his grip carefully. Two feet from any convenient handhold, he paused and clutched the rope, head bowed. His foot scraped a little way down the side of the building. Keito heard faint swearing.

"Shit," he said. "Rishu, are you all right?"

"I...dizzy..."

"Lower yourself back down," said Keito, thinking fast. "I'll climb down and give you a hand."

"Can't. Can't look down," said Rishu. "It just...shit...I'm going to be sick."

"Then be sick, just don't let go."

"I..." Rishu bowed his head, his feet lost their grip on the side of the building, and he uttered a small, wavering cry as the weight of his body pulled him down several inches.

"Fuck!" Keito forced the panic out of his voice. "Just hang on and I'll pull you up. Don't even move. Juri, get behind me and wind the slack around something in case I lose my grip."

He grabbed the line in both hands and heaved, silently cursing the narrow space between bars of the railing. If they had been wide enough to admit a person, Rishu would have run his rope underneath them instead of over the top. Keito could have pulled him in that much sooner.

It could have been worse, he supposed. Rishu could have run the rope under the railing, climbed over, and crouched to grab his line. Not only would Keito have been unable to pull him through the bars, but he would have had no way to haul him up the last few feet. He would have to make do with what he had.

It was a small sound, nearly impossible to hear, but Keito recognized the faint whine for what it was. Rishu gasped as the roped slipped through his sweat-slick hands, accompanied by the delicate tearing of flesh. He grunted as his burnt hands caught his weight once again. Keito risked a look over the edge of the building. There was blood on the line.

Rishu clung to the rope by instinct only, head lolling forward. In any other situation, Keito might have thought he was asleep. He would not be able to hold on much longer.

With a herculean effort, Keito hauled on the rope. He felt his muscles bulging from wrist to shoulder to back to legs. Rishu was heavier than he appeared. Hand over hand, inch by inch, Keito pulled his teammate up past the concrete lip of the roof, past the first bar of the railing, past the second. He held his position a moment to give Juri a chance to secure the line and time...stopped.

For one still moment, all sound was muted. No noise came from the city; there was no sound of movement. Then Keito heard the pounding of his own blood in his ears, the harsh gasping of his own breath, and, above them, the piercing shriek of stressed metal. Time unwound slowly as the top railing came away from its post, swayed drunkenly, and bent, pulling free of the other post to tumble down the side of the building.

As it dropped past Rishu's head, he stirred and looked up through the bars with eyes that were clouded and dim. A flicker of awareness stirred in them when he realized that the rope had gone slack and that he was dropping. It was only a few inches, but it was enough. The rope hit the next rail and leapt from Rishu's hands as it caught his full weight. "NO!" he shouted, clawing at the air.

Trusting in Juri, Keito grasped the rope with one hand and threw himself forward risking what was left of the railing. It caught his weight, groaned, and held, the lifeline keeping him from falling over the edge as he grabbed for Rishu's hand. Their fingertips brushed, hooked around each other, and broke apart. Keito saw Rishu's eyes widen, the fog in them parting for a single moment as he realized his fate.

"KEITO!" he screamed. And then he fell.

The building was not large, but it was tall. Four stories could pass in a heartbeat, or be drawn out across eternity.

Rishu did not scream again - there was no time for sound - yet the moment seemed to crystallize, allowing Keito to experience it in excruciating detail: the rush of air, the heavy landing on the concrete below, the crunch of a skull, the snap of a neck, Juri's hands bunching into his shirt, pulling him back, Aya stepping out of the house, looking down at the ruin that had been Rishu, and up to the roof. His eyes. His eyes should have been out of focus, four stories below, but Keito saw them with perfect clarity.

His bright and piercing eyes.

Juri was crying now, knowing what had happened, but not believing. Wanting to see. Keito grabbed her and pulled her away from the edge of the roof. Away from the sight of Rishu and from Aya's piercing eyes. Behind them, the door to the stairwell banged open. Keito turned, clutching a sobbing Juri to his chest.

"What the fuck is going _on_ up here?" said Ken.

* * *

"Tell me again."

Keito clutched the arms of the chair and tried not to raise his voice. "I told you everything I could."

"Tell me again!" Ken's eyes were wild. "Tell me everything from start to finish. Don't leave out a single detail."

"I told you six times!" said Keito. "And I told Aya twice and Yohji once! They took some notes, asked some questions and that was that. What the fuck do you want from me? Why don't you believe me?"

The tension drained from Ken's body. Not all of it - never all of it - but enough to soften his features and allow his shoulders to sag. He spoke quietly, though his voice still carried an edge. "It's not that I don't trust you," he said, "but I'm the one who makes the reports. It's my version of the events that Persia's going to see. I want to make sure I know every detail. I _have_ to know every detail. If he asks - and he _will_ ask - I have to make sure I'm not contradicting myself. You know, saying something that I think is true and then finding out later that it wasn't."

"The details are that important?" said Keito, eying Ken suspiciously.

Ken stared him down. "The details are that important."

Keito gave in. "I told you everything I can. I went to the roof for some air and saw the line hanging over the edge of the building. Juri came up to wait for you. She seemed to want some privacy so I called down to Rishu and told him to come up. He seemed unsteady and I asked him if he was all right. He said yes and started to climb, but got dizzy before he reached the top. He couldn't climb up or down. Said he felt sick. I tried to pull him up, but the top bar of the railing gave away and yanked the rope out of his hands. I lunged forward to grab him and..."

Keito paused. The moment replayed itself in his mind. He could not shake the feeling that he could have done more. "I missed," he said quietly. "I lunged forward to grab him, but only brushed his fingers."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Aya heard him scream 'no' and then your name. What about that?"

Keito forced himself to look into his teacher's eyes. All of them had commented on Rishu's cries. It sounded worse every time he was asked about it. "He screamed 'no' when the rope was yanked out of his hand and my name because I was the last person he saw, I suppose. Hard to tell what he was seeing. His eyes looked sort of glassy."

"Glassy? That's new."

"It isn't fucking new! I told you he was acting strange," Keito snapped.

"You didn't mention his eyes!" Ken shouted in return.

Keito paused. He was sure he had mentioned Rishu's eyes. He had mentioned them to Aya, at least. He must have.

When he did not answer, Ken looked away and wrote down a few notes. "I'll mention it in the report. We'll see if the autopsy has anything to say about it."

"Autopsy? Why the fuck does he need an autopsy? He fell off the fucking roof!" Keito stood. He was tired of being accused and talked down to. He was under no illusion regarding his chances against his teacher, but his full height topped Ken's by an inch or more and, standing, he did not feel so helpless. "Are you _trying_ to set me up? Because it's starting to sound like it. Aya heard Rishu scream my name, so what? I was the last person he saw. It's not like he had time for more."

Although it had made him feel better for a moment, Keito should have known that his height impressed no one else. He found himself hunching over, slumping forward to meet Ken's level stare. "The autopsy is standard procedure for any of us," said Ken. "We don't tend to die under normal circumstances. And believe me, I don't _need_ to set you up. If you two hadn't gotten along so well, your story wouldn't even need a negative spin to make it sound suspicious. Rishu was heard screaming a protest and your name before he died. Aya came outside and saw you looking over the edge..."

"Of course I was looking over the fucking edge! I'd just thrown myself over the rail to grab him!" Keito protested.

Ken ignored him. "You were looking over the edge. No one saw him fall but you. Not unless..." He paused and looked up at Keito with a vague mix of hope and worry. "Juri didn't see him fall, did she?"

"I told you, she was behind me, winding the rope. If she hadn't been, I couldn't have leaned so far over to try and grab him," Keito said. "Of course, she could vouch for the timing. I was still trying to pull Rishu up when the bar snapped and he screamed the first time. She knows I tried to grab him and nearly went over. I had the rope, but no handholds. She had to help pull me back up."

"Okay, good. That's something," Ken said with obvious relief. "I have to talk to her next. If she can vouch for the timing, it will keep everything nice and clean."

"But you're also glad she didn't see anything."

"I have to talk to her next," Ken repeated. He stepped away and ran a hand through his hair. "I think it will be easier to talk to her that way. She's already upset and crying. I wouldn't... I think it will be easier to talk to her that way. I've never done the...the death talk before. Not with...with someone I...know."

"Juri's strong," Keito said, quelling a surge of jealousy. "Don't underestimate her. Have the police or the ambulance come for the body yet?"

"Yohji checked the scene and Aya brought it in. We're waiting for Persia to send someone," Ken said.

Keito stared at him in surprise.

"Oh, don't look so shocked," Ken told him. "We're already dead. We can't start turning up on official records now. We'll hold the body until Persia sends someone, then he'll receive any honours he would have had the first time around. Better if there's no family."

The effect of their untraceable status on their deaths was something that Keito had not considered. It bothered him somewhat, but he pushed it aside. "Is the body messed up?"

"Not really. Back of the head's not too pretty, but none of that is showing. Neck looks odd. Blood in the hair. I've seen a lot worse."

"Can I see it?" said Keito.

Ken hesitated, and then nodded. "If you go in with someone. We're supposed to do it in pairs, not that it always works out that way."

"I want to see the body before it goes out then," said Keito. "You should probably ask Juri if she wants to see it too. It's closure, you know? I don't think there will be another chance."

"No," said Ken. "There never is." He paused a moment, the silence heavy, and then came to a decision. "I'll ask her. I think I'd like to see him too. He was my student. I know Aya is teaching you now, but I was first. You're all my students. Don't wander off too far until all this has been taken care of; Persia will want to know where everyone was tonight."

When Keito did not reply, Ken left him in silence.

* * *

Rishu's death affected Weiss on a grand scale. The cool and taciturn Aya made his appearance in the quiet moments between conversations. With his students he made an effort to be warm and open, but the moment he turned away from them, his mild expression hardened and his eyes deepened, lost in thought. Yohji was no less at ease, but his humour was somehow sour and suspicious. Although neither of them offered any accusation, Keito felt vaguely responsible for all that had happened.

It wasn't fair, he thought vehemently. He hadn't asked Rishu to take his chances on the roof almost every night. In fact, he had counseled against it. Why should he be blamed, however slightly, for what had happened?

To be fair, he was not the only one who suffered. Juri felt a greater responsibility and for less reason. If she had not wanted privacy that night, if she had not wanted Rishu to leave his perch, he might have slept there all night and been refreshed enough to make the climb in the morning. If she had not been selfish, if she had not been needy, if she had not been so...so...

"I'm on birth control," she told Keito several days after the accident. "I've been in the safe zone for quite some time. I had a condom in my pocket; did you know that? Even at the movie, I had it. I was carrying it all day." She rocked herself unsteadily and giggled, a nervous bubbling of laughter. "I'd been planning and planning, but I knew, from the very moment you told me to go up with food, that I was going to try that night. Oh yes, and the roof...so quiet. Why not the roof? Why not?"

She burst into tears then, face buried in her hands. Keito tried to sooth her, but she seemed oblivious to his presence. "They watch me," she moaned into her palms, biting the soft pad of flesh as if to keep from screaming. "Always watching me..."

However, it was Ken who filled Keito with dread.

At first it seemed that the loss of his student, or perhaps his concern for Juri, had rendered Ken quiet and meek. He did not grieve - Keito was under the impression that Ken had used up all his tears long ago - but he was respectful of Juri's grief and tried to comfort her in his own clumsy fashion, an inexperience that might have been charming in any other circumstance. This time, Keito felt, it might doom him. Juri's outpouring was deep and heartfelt, aggravated by feelings of guilt. Disconnected from such regrets for a very long time, Ken could only provide her with hollow assurances. His physical presence, his quiet words – they were nothing without the vital bond of understanding. Keito felt him reaching for it, but all he could touch was a heart of anger.

Wanting, needing emotions that he had buried too deeply to reach was an added frustration that Ken could not bear. It bubbled to the surface without warning and often without reason. Never in front of Juri - Ken was careful to preserve his illusion of control for her sake - but what she could not see, she could hear, and what she could not hear, she could guess. Nights of muted rage from the floors below, pieces of furniture quietly replaced, sudden disappearances, and morning arrivals bruised and bloody was proof enough for anyone, never mind someone as intelligent as Juri.

In her growing paranoia, Juri accepted the mantle of guilt for these actions as well. They watched her, she said. They were angry with her. She drew inward, stiffening at the slightest touch, trying to absolve Ken of the burden of loving her, succeeding only in frustrating him further. Keito watched the tragic dance of the silhouettes at the computer room window. Stiff, pleading, relenting, cold, arguing until, one night, Juri ran from the room. He did not ask her about it. He did not know what to say.

"Concentrate, Juri. We are Weiss; we aim to kill. Your target won't go lightly on you if you only wound him...or her."

Aya's words carried through a lull at the firing range - the police firing range, if it could be credited. Keito did not hear Juri's reply. Juri's shots were imprecise, sometimes striking the chest, sometimes the arm, sometimes missing the target completely. It was a change from the controlled precision she had first demonstrated, and her aim worsened the more she was chided for her lack of concentration. Keito considered his own target. He had shown no marked improvement, but most of his shots were incapacitating, damaging either torso or head.

Juri's target was replaced while she reloaded. She fired twice neither shot a fatal one. From the other side of her, six shots rang out in rapid succession. Each one touched the heart of the target.

Keito raised his weapon, but did not fire. In the lull, he fancied he heard Juri's rapid breathing from next door. He counted to three before her panic broke and she emptied her gun, firing wildly at her target before dropping her weapon and bolting from the range.

Keito unloaded and followed her, glaring Aya down before he could protest. His equipment he left at the door before chasing Juri into the night.

She ran through back alleys and the unseen places until Keito closed the distance between them and caught her arm. She screamed then, clamping a hand to her own mouth when she realized who he was. The cry crept through her fingers in terrified whimpers, not yet ready to die. Keito rubbed her arms and spoke nonsense to her until she calmed enough to pull her hand away. Trembling, swaying on her feet, Keito realized she might collapse and eased her to the ground. "What happened?" he said, sitting next to her.

"They watch me," she said. "They're always watching me. Any reason will do. They'll use any reason to get me. They blame me for it, you know. They blame me for Rishu. Both of us, they blame both of us...don't you feel them watching you?"

"Which them?"

"All of them," Juri whispered. "They all watch. Did they ask you about Rishu's autopsy report?" When Keito shook his head, she asked, "Not even Ken?"

"No, I fucking swear. No one asked me about Rishu's autopsy. Do you know something?"

"Maybe. I don't know," Juri replied. "The report came in by e-mail just as I was leaving the computer room. Ken looked at it and asked me to stay. He asked me if Rishu had ever used sleeping pills. When I said I didn't think so, he asked if you used them. Then if I used them. When I said that none of us did, he wanted to know if I knew where to get them. If they could be ordered online. If I knew how they could be administered without anyone knowing. If I knew what kind of dosage was fatal. He kept asking me and asking me, but I don't, Keito. I really don't."

"I don't think he was accusing you, Juri," said Keito although he was doubtful. "When Ken gets focused on one thing, he has a hard time letting go. I think he's obsessed with Rishu's death. Why would he ask you about sleeping pills?"

"I made him show me the report." Juri's voice was barely audible now. She had retreated into herself, searching for safety. "It wasn't...it wasn't an official report. It was a private message about the report. It said that Rishu...that Rishu's body had a high level of chloral hydrate and there was a list of things it could be found in. Sleeping pills was right at the top. It's the active ingredient. Chloral hydrate, I mean. I never knew that, you know, but now I'll never forget it."

A report about Rishu's death? Surely Aya or Yohji would have mentioned such a thing if they'd seen it. And if they had, why would they have stopped at questioning Juri? Did they suspect him and fear that he might bolt if he found out?

The questions boiled in Rishu's mind, but he knew that now was not the time or the place to ask them. Juri could not help him. At this moment, she could not help herself. "I don't know that it's as bad as you make it sound, but, then, I'm not told a hell of a lot," he said. "You're smart. If you think something's up, something must be up. What do you think we should do about it?"

"I don't know," she whispered urgently. "I don't. I just want out. I could deal with killing for a living, but not if I can't trust the people who are supposed to watch my back. I'll tell you a secret," she said, leaning in close. "I know where the reports go. I tracked some of them. Even being randomly re-directed, they end up in the same place. I think can get in to talk to Persia...or at least someone a little further up the chain of command. "

"Are you fucking nuts?" Keito grabbed her arm, half-afraid that she'd run off and implement her plan without thinking it through. "Persia's supposed to be high-placed. Do you think he'll be without guards? They won't let you just walk in."

"I can't send a message; someone will find it," said Juri. "Besides, breaking into a place is something we're supposed to do."

"As assassins under Persia's orders. You don't think he'll be ready for such things himself? It's an invitation to get shot."

Juri's smiled was strained, but sincere. "Oh, Keito, of everyone here, you're the only one I feel I can trust. I understand what you're saying, but what else can I do? I don't think I can do this anymore."

"Call Rex."

The new voice startled them both, not only because it was unexpected, but also because it was unfamiliar. It took Keito a moment to realize that Ken had found them and was watching them from the shadows. All of their training and they had not heard him approach. "How long have you been there?" he said.

"Not very long," Ken replied, "but long enough. You can't get to Persia unless he wants you to. He can't mingle with the various factions unless it's by choice and careful planning. If he was caught, the whole system might fall apart. Talk to Rex, if you want out," he told Juri. "Persia isn't unreasonable. If you still want to help, but not to kill, there might be another department for you, far from Weiss and what it stands for. I'll give you her number - special cell, no bouncing around - and you can talk to her yourself. You can call from any phone. Anywhere you feel safe." He pulled a scrap of paper from his pocket and patted down his jacket ineffectively. "Keito, do you have a pen?"

Digging for a stub of pencil that he kept in his jacket pocket, Keito realized why Ken's voice had not been recognized. There was a deep sadness in it. Keito had never heard the like. Certainly not from Ken whose words usually rang with anger or good humour.

Keito watched his teacher scribble something on the paper and approach Juri as he might a wounded animal. "Rex's number," said Ken as he gently took her hand and pressed the paper into her palm, curling her trembling fingers around it. When he kissed the top of her fist, Juri burst into tears. Whatever other ideas Juri might have, she was also in love. She wept her apologies as Ken murmured reassurances to no effect. "Call tonight if you want, but come back," he said, cupping her face in his hands and pressing their foreheads together. "You can't be out all night."

It was a warm and touching moment that made Keito feel uncomfortable. He moved down the alley a short distance so that he would be close enough to be of assistance, but too far away to be a nuisance. He heard Juri make an uncertain promise and wondered what argument had caused her to distrust her teacher. Nothing as simple as a questioning, that was for certain. It might anger her, but unless she was blind or knew more than she was willing to tell, there was no way she could believe that Ken held her in account for Rishu's death. Not even her natural inclination toward paranoia could mistake such protective affection for suspicion.

Distracted from his musings, Keito watched Ken stand, step away from Juri, and vanish as quietly as he had come. If his eyes had been averted, Keito would never have known he had gone. Juri joined him, sniffling and rubbing the last of the tears from her eyes.

"Thank you for staying," she said. "Will you come with me to make the call? I would feel better if I had someone to watch my back."

Honoured by her trust, Keito walked Juri around town until she found a public phone where she felt comfortable. He waited a discreet distance away from the booth, until she emerged looking nervous, but more optimistic. Juri was not ready to return, so they wandered the streets for nearly an hour, keeping to the shadows and the quiet places. Keito felt her hand creep into his own and convinced himself that it was only for reasons of security. They strolled slowly, spoke little, and when Juri was ready to head home, Keito let her lead him by the route that she preferred. She stopped just out of sight of the house and turned to him. "Rex says she will contact me about my new assignment," she said.

"So you plan to keep working with another division?"

Juri nodded. "I want to do something, I just can't do it here. It means we probably won't see each other anymore. You've been a better teammate than anyone could hope for. I wish you'd leave as well."

"I can't," said Keito. "I don't really feel like I'm in danger and there are things I still need to do."

Juri did not reply, but gathered both of his hands in her own and gave them a squeeze. Then she released them and turned toward the house, head bowed.

Keito fell into step beside her, his hands buried deep in his pockets.

* * *

"I believe I may have been working you too hard," said Aya the next morning. "I forget sometimes that my lessons come on top of Ken's regular exercises and that simulated missions can be as exhausting as regular ones. As members of Weiss, you won't be expected to go out every night. In fact, as you've seen for yourselves, weeks can go by without a mission. Although I want you to keep up the exercises that Ken has taught you and spend at least one hour on the firing ranger, I intend to suspend lessons for the next four days. After that, I will work regular breaks into your week."

"Sounds great," said Keito, meaning every word. "I have a couple of exams and could use the study time. Can we afford it?"

"You're well ahead of schedule in your training," said Aya. "I think a rest would do you both some good."

Although Aya did not look at her as he spoke, Juri lowered her eyes. She was under no illusions regarding the reason for the lessened workload. Regardless of the reason, Keito was not inclined to complain. A little rest was something they both needed.

For a few days, Juri's attitude was optimistic. Her nervousness diminished and her aim at the firing range improved. She smiled more although she continued to steal looks over her shoulder and refused to be alone with any one of her teachers. If she could not avoid a private meeting, she did so only when she was certain that Keito was nearby. She avoided working on reports after meals, but sprawled with Ken in the common, surrounded by books, firing exam questions in short, rapid sentences. Stretched out on the sofa, Keito answered them, eyes fixed on the ceiling. He decided that he much preferred discreet silhouettes.

However, as the end of the week neared, Juri's fears returned. She managed to focus during her lessons - afraid, perhaps, that a bad performance might ruin her chances of a transfer - but became reclusive otherwise. She spent her free time in her room, first with the door open as if to keep an eye on the rest of them, then with the door closed as if to shield herself from disaster.

Soon enough, she stopped showing up for meals, preferring the safety of her room. Questioned through the door, she claimed that she was not hungry although Keito knew that she bought and hid non-perishable foods from the store near the school. Keito tried to bring her meals to her door, but she feared their preparation. When he claimed to have made it from scratch himself, she feared their ingredients. He saved his money and bought her take-away when he could.

As the end of the second week drew near without a word from Rex, she began to avoid her lessons as well. Ken would stand by her door and plead with her, but despite her tear-filled replies, she would not come out. She let no one in to speak with her but Keito. Eventually, fearing that he might unwittingly be used as a spy, her door was closed to him as well.

"If we wanted to kill her, we could just break the damned door down," said Ken one night, pacing the roof. "Aya's got all the keys in this place and there's nothing around here she could shove in front of it that we couldn't smash through."

Keito acknowledged the rant by looking up from his textbooks, but offered no other reaction. He was growing accustomed to Ken's moods and this one did not merit more than a sympathetic ear. "I'm worried about her too, but she's not going to change her mind. Rishu's death hit her hard. The best thing you can do is be there for her until her transfer comes in."

"That's easy for you to say. She talks to you."

"Fuck you. I see you outside her door every night."

"Just 'cause I talk to her, doesn't mean she answers," said Ken. He sat down heavily beside Keito and leaned up against the wall of the stairwell. "I'm not as dumb as I look," he sighed. "I'm not like Yohji, I've never been good with girls, but I've known a few. One of them would tell me anything. Dark secrets. Stuff she probably shouldn't have, but she trusted me to love her anyway. Juri doesn't do that."

"She talks about you a lot," said Keito. "She says she loves you."

"She hides from me. Not just now...always." Ken stared at the sky in silence for several minutes before continuing. "I don't know what she's thinking, Keito, but I love her as best as I can love anything anymore. I don't want her to go - if she does, I might never see her again - but I'd rather have her relocated than see her suffer. You know… I don't even know why I'm telling you this."

Keito considered his answer. "People often tell me things. Someone told me I had an open face."

"Your curse then. You'll get to see the dark side of everyone and everything. Still," said Ken, standing up and stretching, "it's not something I should really be sharing."

It was no concern of Keito's whether Ken wanted to keep his secrets or not - if anything, the intimacy of conversation was making him uncomfortable - but few people had ever stopped themselves in the middle of sharing their life stories. Curse or not, the habit of listening was bred into his bones and Keito found the sudden disruption disconcerting. "Why?" he said. "Is it because I'm still in training?"

"Because those things that Juri does claim to love about me are things she can easily find in you," Ken replied in a voice as hard as stone, "and like I said...she talks to you."

Irritated and undeserving of his teacher's rancour, Keito snapped, "If that's what you want, why did you leave the one who told you anything?"

Ken laughed. It was not a laugh that Keito wished to hear often. "I didn't leave her," said Ken, offering a wicked grin. "She died."

Any pity Keito wished to feel drowned in the sickly light of that grin. "I'm sorry to hear it. How did she die?"

"Good night, Keito."

Keito scrambled to his feet as Ken disappeared into the stairwell. "What do you mean by that?" he called after his teacher, but by the time he reached the top of the stairs, Ken had vanished into the house.

Late night runs were becoming routine. Now that Aya had taken upon himself the task of doing the dishes and forced Yohji into similar servitude, Keito found himself with at least an hour's worth of time on his hands. A quick run around the city, becoming familiar with different blocks and side streets, their hiding spots and possible places of entrapment, was a useful way to fill the time and gave him an opportunity to buy Juri something to eat on the way home.

It was not unusual for the house to be quiet this late at night. Yohji would be out, preparing to become another human target and Aya was no doubt reviewing his lesson plan or thinking up dastardly ways to punish his pupil for carelessness should he be caught - as if a wire around the neck was not punishment enough. Ken spent the nights writing reports and an uncertain clacking from the computer room was testament to his presence and struggle with paperwork. Once strange to him, Keito found all of these things reassuring.

Sweating, stinking, and eager for a shower, he nevertheless made his way to Juri's room and knocked gently on the door, a package of fried noodles cradled in one arm. He did not expect her to let him in, or even to receive an answer, so it surprised him when the door unlatched under his knuckles and swung open an inch.

"Juri?" he said, pushing his way inside. A single lamp burned to illuminate a room sealed off from the outside world. The window was shaded with a heavy blanket taped, stapled, and tacked into place. Clothes lay strewn about and the bed sheets clumped together in knots. Papers filled with handwritten notes covered every surface. Keito glanced as them in passing, frowning at the mindless ramblings and paranoid observations. None of them gave any indication of where Juri might have gone.

Dropping his package on the desk, he left the room and began a sweeping search of the upper levels. He did not believe that Juri would have sought the company of her teachers, but she was not to be found anywhere else in the building. Her shoes and coat sat undisturbed in their accustomed places so she had not left by the front door. Pondering the situation, one final and more sinister solution occurred to him.

Keito raced to the roof.

His heart seized when he stepped out and found her by the broken railing. The relief he felt could not break through the suffocating dread that enveloped him. There was an aura of anticipation in her every movement, a slow inevitability to the way she turned, eyes lowered, to address him. "You shouldn't be up here."

"Like hell. I live here," Keito replied. It was a stupid reply, but the situation had him on edge. She was a ghost in winter clothing, her shroud layers of sweaters and scarves. Aside from a curl of hair, only her eyes could be seen, peering out at him from beneath a woolen cap.

She reached up with one gloved hand to pull her scarf down below her lips. "I thought you were out running."

"I got home early," said Keito. Her stare unnerved him. He shifted from foot to foot. "Look, I picked up some fried noodles. Why don't we go downstairs..."

"You left them?" Juri's eyes filled with horror. "They're no good now. They could be drugged. Or poisoned. No one will poison me. Not my food, not my drink, not even my skin. No one..."

"I can see that," said Keito. "We can go out for more. Or I can go and you can stay, but please come back downstairs."

Juri eyed the broken railing and turned to Keito. "I won't fall. Not like Rishu. I've been thinking about him a lot."

"I think about him all the time, Juri. Why don't we talk about it?"

"I don't think it was an accident," she continued, ignoring the interruption. "At least, not an actual accident. They look at me like it's my fault. Maybe it is."

"Juri..."

"I'm the watcher, Keito. I didn't watch hard enough." Juri lowered her head as if observing a moment of silence for their lost teammate, and then looked up with an air of defiance and determination that Keito had not seen in weeks. "I'm sorry," she said, "but I won't be a sacrifice."

Keito did not see the gun until it emerged from the layers of Juri's clothing. She did not lift the barrel in his direction. If she had, he would not have run so fast.

He clamped his hand around hers, forcing the barrel into the air, away from her head. "What are you doing, Keito?" she shrieked, struggling against him. "Get away from me!"

Juri's retaliation cost them both their grip on the weapon, which skittered across the roof, coming to rest a few feet away. Keito lunged for it, only to have it knocked out of his grasp. Juri could accomplish anything when forced to focus on her task and she was determined to out-manoeuvre him. She pulled her scarf from around her neck and looped it, not around Keito's throat, but his face, and struck him a blow alongside his head. Blind and disoriented, he could not prevent her from retrieving the gun.

"Stay away from me!" she shouted as Keito pulled the scarf from his eyes. Then, quietly, "I don't want you to get hurt."

There was no drama in Juri's death, only the vaguest notion that he might be able to stop her, that he might be able to grab the gun one more time, followed by a sharp report. Her body hit the rooftop before Keito could even complete his thought.

Stunned, he stumbled forward, hoping she had missed, that she had only wounded herself, but the ruin of her skull told him otherwise. He barely noticed that he was crying as he reached out to touch her face, her lips still warm beneath his fingertips, refusing to believe what he knew was the truth. "I'm the one who should be sorry," he whispered, taking her hand. He did not release it until the others, drawn to the roof by the shouting and gunfire, forced him away from her, confining him to his room to await questioning.

In his room, under his pillow, was a note.

On the note was an address.

* * *

"You're not the person I want to see right now."

Keito hunkered down on the lower steps of the fire escape as Ken punched new wounds into the trashcans that lined the back alley. If the neighbours had any objection to noise in the early hours of the morning, they were clever enough to keep it to themselves. "Are you going to question me too? I told Aya and Yohji everything I could."

"I heard. Fuck off."

The whine of steel against aluminum made Keito wince. It was the first time he had ever seen Ken use his bugnuks and the blades, once simply impressive, were menacing in the moonlight.

_He uses them on people_, Keito realized. He had always known it, but never been able to truly grasp the concept. Now, their razor edges tearing at the flimsy metal, dripping with discarded liquids, he could believe them covered with blood. "I really did try to stop her."

"Right about the time she was screaming at you to get away from her?"

What frightened Keito the most was not the way Ken punctuated his sentence with a violent assault on yet another can, but the strange matter-of-factness in his voice as he did so. There was no anger or sorrow, only a sense of resignation, of expectations fulfilled, and the regular, almost ritual, tearing of metal flesh. "Yeah, about that time."

"Convenient." Ken stepped away from the cans and sheathed his claws. "You do realize she was wearing gloves and your fingers prints are going to be the only ones on that gun, don't you?"

"It was one of our practice pieces, anyone could have touched it," Keito replied. "But yeah, they probably will be."

Ken leaned up against the railing of the fire escape. "And you know that the side of the head isn't the usual place a suicide aims for, right? Too unreliable."

"Maybe that's why she chose it. Maybe she wasn't sure."

"You know what I got about ten minutes before the commotion started?" said Ken, a wild grin creeping over his face. Keito shook his head. "Her transfer. Good joke, eh?"

"Too many coincidences for me," said Keito. "You going to put that in your report?"

"Fuck the fucking report," Ken snarled, leaning over the railing. Feeling boxed in, Keito slid off the fire escape and put the mouth of the alley behind him. Ken did not try to stop him, but tracked him with his eyes.

"It's just that it has to be done _sometime_," said Keito as casually as he could, "and I want to make sure that our sides, mine and hers, are fairly represented. Otherwise...otherwise I might start thinking that Juri was right and there _is_ someone out to get us. Start feeling like that and I'll have to track Persia down, talk to him personally."

All expression faded from Ken's face. "Don't talk to Persia," he said.

"I know his reasons for secrecy, but I can't live here if I'm just waiting to die."

"Don't. Talk. To Persia."

Ken spat out every word as if it was a mouthful of bile. Keito knew he was pushing his luck, but persisted nonetheless. "I'll have to. This Rex doesn't appear to be very effect..."

The last of his sentence expired in the rush of air expelled from his lungs as Ken slammed him up against the wall. Keito had not expected his teacher to be so fast. He choked on the arm that pressed against his throat and eyed with horror the blades hovering an inch from his eyes.

"Do _not_ talk to Persia!" Ken roared in his face. Then, in a whisper, "You don't believe me, but that is the worst thing you can do. There is no way you can get to him without being discovered."

Keito swallowed hard. "This...this isn't what I came here for," he gasped. The pressure at his throat eased a little and he pushed himself away from Ken, unconsciously scooping up half a broken bottle as he did so. "I didn't come here to piss you off or fuck with you. I just wanted to know what was going on. I'm fucking scared, okay? Wouldn't you be?"

Ken squared off with him, lowering his arm, but leaving his claws exposed. They gleamed briefly in the moonlight, a reminder that Keito was no longer dealing with someone entirely human. He looked at the bottle shard in Keito's hand and grinned. "You have no idea how much I want a job right now," he said, his voice low. "I want to kill someone, Keito. Someone. Anyone. Any_thing_. You have no idea how much it hurts that I can't...but you will. If you stay here, you will. I was scared once too."

Keito steeled himself as Ken stepped forward, refusing to back away. He did not raise the shard of glass, but kept it close. "I also came to tell you that I'm sorry about Juri," he said. "I wish I could have gotten there sooner, but, somehow, I don't think that would have mattered. I'm just sorry it happened."

"Did you love her?"

Keito considered his answer carefully. "Yes," he said.

The tension drained out of Ken's face and he eased into a more comfortable stance. His bugnuk blades retracted as he released his grip. "Get in the house," he said.

A chill ran up Keito's spine, but he needed to know. "Why?"

Ken spread his hands and smiled, as charming and affable an expression as Keito had ever seen. "Because," he said, "I plan to get piss drunk and beat the living shit out of something and, right now, I don't give a rat's ass if that something is you."

"Yes...Sensei," Keito replied, slinking back toward the fire escape. When he was sure his way was clear, he turned his back on the beast and ran up the stairs.

He did not let go of the bottle.

* * *

Although he needed rest, Keito found himself unable to sleep. He tossed and turned for several hours before deciding that he might as well get up. Perhaps a little television would draw out his weariness.

Throwing on some sweat pants and a T-shirt, he made his way quietly to the stairs. A light burned in the front room and sounds of movement drifted up from the kitchen. The high pitch of a kettle whistle suggested a late-night cup of tea. Not entirely certain that he wanted company, Keito pressed himself into the shadows and eased his way down to the landing where he could spy in relative safety. A few minutes later, Aya walked by beneath him, oblivious to his presence, and made his way into the front room. He settled in the chair nearest the window, book in hand.

Keito was not entirely surprised to find Aya up and about. He was, by some unspoken agreement, the master of the house and the man responsible for the wellbeing of its occupants. The loss of two of them no doubt weighed heavily on his mind. Even now his interest lay elsewhere than in the book on his lap. His glance strayed constantly toward the window and its view of the street. Eventually he gave up on the pretense entirely and simply watched, waiting.

For Ken, thought Keito.

Ken had not yet returned and his absence spun a web of tension over the house, one that had captured Keito as well. They were both waiting for Ken, he realized, but whether they waited in concern or with an eye toward damage control was uncertain.

In time, Aya stood and walked toward the front entrance with the haste of one who is anxious, but will not be hurried. Keito crept slowly out of the shadows and into the front room as Aya's footsteps disappeared down the stairs. He reached the window in time to see his teacher stride out and take a solid stance before the doorway, blocking the entrance from the stumbling figure before him.

Keito watched Ken try to push his way past, only to be pushed back in return. An argument ensued. Keito could not hear the words, but voices raised penetrated even glass and the angry gestures of the combatants made it painfully clear what was going on. Ken became flustered and obviously aggressive, but Aya did not soften in resolve or lose his cool demeanour. Perhaps it was only that he knew Ken too well to be intimidated, but Keito could not help admiring his poise.

The argument ended when Ken paused for breath. A single gesture from Aya, surely accompanied by a reasonable argument, made him lower his head in shame. But Aya was forgiving. A step forward, a touch to the shoulder, to the neck, and Ken sagged against him, unable to stand without the adrenaline of his anger and aggression. Aya held him for just a moment and turned him back toward the house.

Keito slunk from the front room and prepared to creep silently back up to his bed, but froze when Aya called to him. "You might as well come and help me, Keito," his teacher said, his voice drifting up from the entrance. "He's heavier than he looks."

Uncertain, Keito made his way to the doorway and the stairs leading down to street level. Aya smiled up at him, his expression gentle and mysterious. Ken leaned against him, barely conscious, smelling of street and alcohol. Livid bruises marked the right side of his face. His cheek and lip oozed blood. Keito approached him cautiously, but the gleam of recognition in his eyes lasted only a moment, disappearing behind closed lids.

"The other guy is probably much worse," said Aya, unconcerned. "Grab his arm and help me get him up the stairs."

Keito hesitated, but Aya's smile offered encouragement so he ducked beneath Ken's other arm and pulled it around his neck. Between them both, they managed to keep Ken upright and moving. "Bring him into the front room," Aya instructed. "I don't owe him quite enough to bring him all the way to bed."

He sounded both sad and amused, but Keito did not comment. "Do you want him on his stomach?" he said instead. "So he won't choke if he, you know, pukes?"

"Back," said Aya. "At least for now. Just let me get put some cushions down to elevate his head and shoulders."

Feeling awkward, Keito sat on the sofa supporting a largely unconscious Ken. His teacher had always been moody, but his gamut of emotions over the past few weeks left Keito reeling. Seeing him now, diminished and despairing, called to question many of the beliefs Keito had formed for himself since becoming a part of Weiss. Always observant, Aya touched his shoulder in a gesture of comfort, before relieving him of his burden.

"It feels odd now, but soon you will stop calling him teacher," Aya said, coaxing Ken into a supine position. "You will train with a weapon and receive a code name. The latter Rex will supply with your first mission, the former you will choose for yourself. We will no longer be your superiors although we find that an informal hierarchy makes the system run more smoothly. Wait here just a moment."

Keito did so, not because Aya commanded it - indeed, he felt that if he had chosen to excuse himself, Aya would have let him go without a word - but because he suddenly felt the need to speak. Or to listen. Aya radiated an aura of sense, purpose, and the welcoming warmth that came of someone comfortable in his own skin. Keito wanted a measure of comfort too and he wanted it before the shadows swallowed him as surely as they had swallowed Juri.

Aya returned with a cloth, a bowl of water, and a small first aid kit. He placed them on the floor near the sofa and unzipped Ken's jacket. "Get his shoes off and bring them to the door. I'll take care of the rest."

Keito obeyed and returned to find Ken's jacket on the floor, his shirt pulled out, and his jeans loosened. Sprawled out in such a vulnerable position, Ken looked surprisingly young. _Was_ young, Keito realized. A difference of five years, a gulf of experience, was, when looked at from the proper perspective, merely five years.

"I wish I could tell you that this won't happen often," said Aya, busying himself with cloth and water. He dabbed gently at the cuts on Ken's face, stroking away strands of brown hair with something very like tenderness. "I wish, but I've wished for a very long time. He was doing quite well, you know. He enjoyed teaching. You, all of you, were good for him and I want to thank you for that. If it hadn't been for so many unfortunate events..."

Aya paused and shook his head. "I'll be blunt with you, Keito. You're brighter than you pretend to be. You see more, know more, than I would have expected of a student."

"Thank you for saying so," said Keito. He caught himself scanning the room for convenient shadows and forced himself to focus on Aya. He had no reason to feel so exposed, and refused to show weakness. "It's an honour."

"Do you think so?" Aya chuckled. "You are more alert than I was when I started out. I don't worry about your survival. You will live until it's time for you to stop living. No accidents. No uncertainties." He frowned. "Don't think me cold. What happened to Rishu and Juri was terrible, but better that it happens now than in the field. In the field, there is a responsibility. Endangering one's self can endanger the team."

Keito stiffened. "You're glad that they're gone?"

"No," Aya replied firmly. "Don't misunderstand me. I would have preferred that Rishu learn a lesson with a broken leg and that Juri transfer out if she was uncomfortable here, but the fact remains that he took unnecessary risks and she was mentally unstable." He looked up at Keito, his comforting smile gone. "The irony is that we've all taken unnecessary risks and none of us is very stable. Please, sit. Don't feel you need to hover."

"I just...want to watch," said Keito, scratching the back of his head. He expected a protest, but Aya nodded.

"It's good to see that we can be vulnerable. It will make you less ashamed of your own weaknesses. Survivors are not necessarily the strongest, only the ones who know not to bring their weaknesses into battle. I take full responsibility for the deaths of your teammates, Keito - I did not watch one enough and I watched the other too much - but I will not bring these feelings into battle."

Keito's heart leaped. "What do you mean, you watched too much? Did you watch Juri?"

"In a sense," said Aya. He put aside the cloth and bowl, giving Keito his full attention. "Am I the one she feared? I don't know. I don't think her fear can be attributed to any one person. However, I must admit that I did have high hopes for her. I thought..."

Aya paused, evaluating his answer. Decided, he looked Keito in the eye. "I thought she might have a positive effect on Ken. I encouraged them to work together. I watched their progress. If she was aware of my hopes, even on a subconscious level, she might have felt pressured to perform well and felt persecuted if she could not. I never expected more from her than she could give, but now I wonder what she knew..."

What Aya said made some sense. Enough sense that Keito's feelings of loss and anger welled up, constricting his throat and stinging his eyes.

He looked away before any thought of accusation could reach his lips and become words. It was ridiculous to put his blame on Aya. Juri had admitted to him that she had been attracted to Ken long before her paranoia set in. She had spent time with him before Aya and Yohji's return. To suppose she knew of Aya's silent hopes and to hate Aya for not knowing whether these had upset her involved expectations beyond the abilities of either teammate or teacher.

Even so, he could not bring himself to turn back until Aya, prompted by the length of his silence, picked up a bottle of antiseptic and swabbed some onto the first of Ken's cuts.

"Don't hate me, Keito. Regardless of my feelings on the matter, I don't regret encouraging them to be together. I think she had feelings for him and I know that he was happier with her than he has been for a very long time. She was a reason for him to come to terms with himself. He drank less, fought less, and needed less medication."

A shred of fear wormed its way into Keito's heart. "Medication?"

"Commonplace things," said Aya. "Relaxants for tension. Sleeping pills to drive away nightmares. Medication that is taken as needed. I've never approved of them, but Ken needs the illusion of outside control."

"He takes sleeping pills?" said Keito. "What kind?"

Aya offered him a sympathetic smile and Keito realized that he had misunderstood the question. "I'm not sure. Red ones. It's a standard prescription, but not available over the counter. He's offered them to others before now. Yohji has used them. If you think you need help getting to sleep, I'm sure he won't mind if you take one. He mentioned giving one to Rishu shortly after you all arrived. I've always refused."

Why had Aya not made the connection between Rishu's autopsy report and his previous use of the pills? Keito could not believe that his teacher would be that blind. The only way he would not have seen it was if he had never been told about the autopsy. Could Ken have withheld the information? Had he given Rishu the pills, not knowing he would go up on the Ledge?

Had he drugged Rishu in secret, knowing that he would?

"I...uh...don't really like taking drugs," said Keito, trying to displace the source of his fear, "but it...I mean...I cared a lot about Juri. Maybe...maybe just tonight?"

Aya nodded without looking up. "He keeps them on the bedside table in his room."

"His room?"

"Don't worry about going in," said Aya, capping the antiseptic. "He doesn't keep many personal items and, as I've said, you won't be calling him teacher much longer. Help me turn him over and then try to get some sleep."

Keito did so, using the effort to hide the shaking of his hands. As soon has Aya dismissed him, he fled to the safety of the stairs, pausing only to make sure he would not be followed. He considered navigating Ken's room in the dark, but, realizing that he was expected to be there, turned on a light.

He had never been inside one of his teacher's rooms. He was not entirely sure that this one even qualified. Spartan, almost sterile, it lacked the personality of its owner. Keito would have expected a riot of keepsakes and strewn clothing, but the only concession to Ken's presence was a pile of laundry in the corner, a scattering of weights, and a lonely soccer ball. Ignoring them all, Keito moved to the table beside the bed. On it he found a lamp and a clock radio, but no prescription bottle. Taking a chance, he opened the drawer.

And there he found the treasure trove.

It was small, but deeply personal in nature. There were photographs mostly, a few small trinkets, a pocket book of the sort that Rishu preferred, and a scarf. Keito knew that scarf; it had been around his face, blinding him. He couldn't resist pulling it from the drawer, turning it over in his hands. "Juri," he whispered, and was surprised to find that it smelled just like her.

Afraid of contaminating it with his own scent, he quickly replaced the scarf and found the bottle tucked in the foremost corner of the drawer. It was a standard chemist's bottle with a standard chemist's label. Keito lifted it and turned it over, looking for the active ingredient. Mind and body went numb as he read it there in black and white.

Chloral hydrate.

* * *

Juri had been right. They watched him.

Keito was aware of it. Their eyes seemed to follow him no matter where he walked in the house. On his run, unseen observers peered at him from the shadows. Whether his teachers sent them or whether they were Persia's way of keeping an eye on the progress of his recruit mattered little. They were there and Keito sensed them.

Although they all trained him now, Yohji took over his regular lessons, teaching him the techniques of investigation. He learned the legwork, the stealthwork, what questions to ask and how to ask them. He learned about crime scenes before and after the fact: what to touch, what not to touch, what should be removed, and what should be left behind by accident or design. Most importantly, he learned out to observe without being observed and he observed, as he learned, how Yohji watched him with a faint smile as if he knew things that Keito could never understand.

Keito chose a nightstick as a weapon, which caused Aya to raise his brow until it was explained that the shaft would conceal a long, sturdy blade. The reason, Keito said as Aya helped him to develop a practise routine, was that the nightstick could be used with deadly or merely devastating results depending on whether it was used against a target or a bystander. Aya nodded his encouragement, but when he thought that Keito was not looking, he watched his pupil with piercing eyes, the same intense gaze that Keito remembered from the night of Rishu's death.

Ken watched too, but he made no secret about it. He came to Keito's training sessions, worked with him, sometimes studied with him. He eyed his pupil across the dinner table, trailed him on makeshift missions, and fought with him during practise sessions. Keito read his expression - as open as any book - and gauged his actions accordingly. When Ken was angry - and Ken was often angry - he stepped cautiously. When Ken expressed a neutral interest, he went about his business. When Ken was lost in the moment, he seized the opportunity.

"Why are you watching me?" he said, deflecting an attack with the bole of his nightstick.

Startled, Ken danced away from him and flexed his hands, using stiffness as an excuse for his retreat. The bugnuk blades - an older pair, dull with use and clunky in their heavy gloves - sheathed and unsheathed. "I'm your teacher," he said. "Why shouldn't I watch you?"

Keito swung his weapon around and rested it on his shoulder, adopting a casual stance. "Always? Don't you trust your teaching enough to let me take care of myself?"

Ken mimicked him, shaking himself loose and removing one glove to scratch the bridge of his nose. "What's the matter? Feeling a little paranoid? Think everyone's out to get you?"

"Not really," said Keito, wondering if the question was a jibe concerning Juri's death. "I know where that kind of thinking can lead."

He was not prepared when Ken dropped the glove and lunged at him. He saw the punch, but did not recognize it for the feint that it was until a leg swept him off his feet and he found himself on his back, staring up at the long, gleaming blades of the second glove.

"Maybe you should," said Ken. "You might have seen that coming."

He withdrew and quickly turned away, leaving Keito to wonder if he should trust the smug arrogance in his teacher's face, or the bitter sadness in his voice.

They watched; it was true. Keito was aware of it, but he was not Juri. He did not live in fear of their eyes or hide himself from their sight. He joined them, became a part of them, and put himself into the open. If he did not hide, then neither could they.

They watched him, yes, but Keito watched them in return.

And because he watched, Keito knew that they could not watch him all the time.

He sought the safe places, but did not retreat there. If they knew that he knew how to evade them, they would find a way to follow. Rather, he made a note of where they were in case he should need a few moments to himself. The deciding factor did not come until a loud crash drew Keito from his bedroom in time to see Yohji emerge from Juri's room, a broken lamp lay like a corpse at his feet. Pausing to light a cigarette, he stared down at the scuffed stand and shattered shade, mouth twisted into a smile of bitter satisfaction.

"Mercury," he said without looking up.

"What?" said Keito. "What the fuck..."

"Mercury. In the lamp." Yohji exhaled a plume of smoke and nudged the debris with his foot. "I took some pictures of Juri's room along with those on the roof. Part of Persia's investigation, you know. A couple of his research types got back to me today. These old lamps... Whoever got them picked them up second hand, I think, because some of these old lamps were recalled due to a manufacturing problem. When they heat up, they release mercury fumes. Guess no one bothered to turn this one in. They want it over in the lab for testing."

"I don't understand."

Yohji leaned up against the doorframe, a casual pose meant to express his self-possession. It only made him seem weary. "Mercury fumes. They cause all kinds of eating and nervous disorders including, and I quote, 'heightening of existing psychosis'. That would include paranoia. It wouldn't take much, not the way she was closed in here without fresh air."

Keito processed this thoroughly. "So she was breathing this shit in and because she was often nervous, it made that worse?"

"That's what the experts tell me."

It was too simple an explanation. Keito contemplated the broken lamp, Juri's condition, the sleeping pills, and Rishu's habit of climbing to high places. "Don't you think it's convenient that the fucked up lamp ended up in the room with the person most likely to be affected?"

"Mercury will affect anyone who breathes it in," said Yohji through his bitter smile. "If you're referring to Juri's madness, well...it changes nothing. We're all mad here."

Keito nodded thoughtfully. All mad. He had to agree, they were all mad here.

He returned to his room in silence.

* * *

He did nothing that night, or even the next day, but on the second morning, he walked to school early and headed for the library where they did not watch. There, he pulled out the note Juri had left for him. The street address was simple enough to find online and the name of the building's owner much simpler than that. The Takatori family owned a good deal of property in this area of the city. Recent scandals would make them hesitant to be involved with more. Keito drafted a letter to the family's current representative and printed it out. He would not trust such a delicate matter to e-mail when a paid courier would see to it that the letter reached the hands of the man himself.

What he did trust to e-mail was a message to the address that Juri's note assured him was the final destination of all their reports. Keito was not an expert with computers, but he was capable of a simple rerouting system and he spent most of the afternoon setting up dummy accounts with free providers and linking them to a randomizing engine. Any letter sent out would bounce until it reached its final destination. Any reply would do the same. It was not a sophisticated system, but it only needed to work once. He drafted a message to the mysterious agent on the other end, requesting an interview with Persia regarding difficulties in Weiss. He implied that they were personal issues in case the message reached the wrong hands.

Satisfied that he had done what he could, Keito returned to class, pleading illness for his absence.

From the outside, the building was unremarkable. So much so that Keito feared he might have the wrong address. However, he had checked and double-checked his information and it seemed to be the right place. He tried not to let it concern him. He knew he was early; all he could do now was wait.

He had not really expected to receive a reply to either message, much less to both, but a receptionist in the building had contacted him with the assurance that the owner of the building would meet with him at this time, on this spot. Soon afterward, Rex had arrived and requested a private word with Sphinx. Aya had offered him an enigmatic smile and stepped aside. "It seems you have a mission."

Not a mission, but a message.

After expressing her disappointment in Keito's distrust of her, Rex had informed him that Persia would contact him at a time and place of Persia's choosing. No more information could be given, but Rex had assured him that privacy would be of the utmost importance. Keito could not have been happier.

Presently, a man was exiting the building. He bade the guard on duty good night. His gestures suggested that a longer explanation was in order and he waved in Keito's direction. Of course, Keito realized, the building's owner, a member of the wealthy Takatori family, must normally have a car waiting for him, one with armed guards. Keito wondered briefly where the guards would be hiding tonight. He would remember to keep an eye out for them.

The man descended the steps and crossed the courtyard, every movement brisk and efficient. Keito stepped forward to meet him and inhaled sharply as the man stepped into the light.

He was hardly a man at all, perhaps only a few years older than Keito himself. Only the look in his eyes suggested that he was a businessman. A shrewd businessman, and something more. They were eyes that Keito knew, a face he had come to envy. It was the same smiling countenance that mocked him every day from the portrait in the hall. It was the one who belonged. The missing piece of the puzzle that was Weiss.

"Y-you're," Keito stammered. "You're..."

"Takatori Mamoru." The young man smiled. "Are you from the agency?"

A new name, Ken had said. A new position. A contact at the time of his choosing.

"Persia?" Keito whispered.

The man's smile did not diminish, but became somehow feral. "Are you from the agency?" he repeated. "Did you have a question about my building?"

Keito realized that he was meant to play along. "Yes sir," he replied, bowing. The moment he did so, the man appeared to relax. "My name is Mimura Keito. I sent you a message about certain inefficiencies that I would like to discuss."

"Walk with me, Mimura. I dislike inefficiency and would like to hear what you have to say."

Keito fell into step beside the young man who was nevertheless his superior and wondered how he could begin. He was relieved when the decision was made for him.

"There is a park near here," murmured Takatori, who was Persia, who was Omi. "There is a fountain there with a wide square. No one will get close enough to hear and the water will drown recordings in static. Until then, be general."

Keito nodded his understanding and Omi smiled at him. He knew it was Omi because the smile was brilliant, beautiful, and not at all business-like. It was the smile Keito knew from the photograph. For all his secret jealousy, he could have fallen in love with it.

Emboldened and encouraged, Keito spoke in low tones. "I thought there might be employees in your building involved in something illegal."

"But now you doubt your information?"

"No," said Keito awash with Omi's good nature. "I still think these things are going on, but someone might be taking care of them. I just thought you should know in case you haven't been told."

"And why should you, Mimura, be concerned with what happens to me?"

Keito allowed himself to be led across the square, drawn by the sincerity of Omi's interest. "I want you to know because I think it's wrong and because it might have caused the death of my friends."

Omi nodded thoughtfully. "Friends are important. I can see why you are worried." He took a seat on the bench that circled the fountain and indicated that Keito should do so as well. "This is about Rishu and Juri, is it?"

The fountain's rushing water was not so loud that Keito could not hear his superior's voice, but he could understand how the noise might baffle electronics. And he knew, too, that it was a superior to whom he spoke. Persia's voice was firm and commanding.

"In a sense," said Keito. "Rishu and Juri are only part of it. It was Juri who gave me the e-mail address and the location of the building." He wiped his hands on his knees and flexed his fingers. "You...you really are Persia, aren't you?"

"I really am," said Persia and Omi's smile returned. "Is that so difficult to believe?"

"It...wasn't expected." Keito tried to smile in return, but only managed a faint grin. "I thought..."

"That I would be older?" Keito looked away, embarrassed, but Omi was not offended. "Now you see one more reason why I can't mingle with my teams," he said, "but I _am_ here to listen. Tell me what's wrong."

"I don't know if it's wrong or not," said Keito, "but I need answers!"

Omi nodded. "And you don't feel you can trust the others?"

"No."

"Or Rex?"

"No."

Keito was tempted to storm off - the conversation seemed more ridiculous by the moment - but he willed himself to stay and clenched his fists to keep from fidgeting. "I'm sorry," he said, "but, no, I can't trust any of them. Rex was too slow; she couldn't help when she was needed. The others...they're acting weird. They watch me. Yohji told me that Juri was poisoned with mercury from her lamp, but those lamps aren't made with mercury. I checked. No one will talk about the drug found in Rishu's blood, but they all have access to it, especially Ken."

"These are serious accusations," said Omi.

"I don't mean for them to be accusations," Keito replied. "In fact, I wish I could put them out of my mind entirely, but I can't ignore these feelings anymore."

Omi repositioned himself on the bench as though he expected to be there for a while. He took the coat and scarf from his arm and folded them over onto his lap. "Well," said Persia in crisp, no-nonsense tones, "in that case, it might be best if you told this story from the beginning."

"It's a long one," said Keito.

"You are a very important person, Sphinx," said Persia, "and I have all night."

Bolstered by the attention, Keito related the history of his training, beginning with his arrival into Ken's care. Most of it had been good - this he admitted up front - but Rishu's death had changed all that.

No, he realized as he spoke, there had been signs before Rishu's death. Not grand things - a look, a touch, whispered words just out of earshot - but they had been there. And there was Ken - always Ken - who could worry incessantly about their welfare one minute and threaten them the next. Ken, who had told him to get Rishu off the roof and owned a bottle of sleeping pills. Ken, who cherished Juri and became bitter when he thought she did not love him in return. Ken, who had called Keito his pride and then threatened to kill him in his grief.

Ken who had admitted that he did not trust himself.

"Do you think that Ken might have had something to do with the deaths of your teammates?" said Persia, reading his thoughts.

"No! I mean, maybe. Fuck, I don't know!" said Keito, pressing a palm against his forehead. He had been trying to watch his language, to sound clear-headed and responsible, but the stress of uncertainty was beginning to wear him down. "I'm sorry. I...shit...I'm not good with words. I just don't know if I can trust him."

Omi's smile was wistful. "No wonder he likes you; you're the same in many ways. But you are more conniving, I think, and more cynical than he was then. These aren't bad things to be as a member of Weiss, but they can lead you down the wrong path. I don't think you have anything to fear from Ken other than a sound beating during an exercise session.

"He doesn't plan, you see," Persia continued before Keito could interrupt. "Not the way you suggest. To arrange accidents and suicides would require a lot of advance preparation and that is not one of Ken's ways. He is much better at dealing with rapid changes of strategy."

"I don't know that Rishu's death was planned," said Keito. "I was there. I saw the bar break loose in a way that couldn't be set up. I'd never trusted the railing to begin with. It feels more like someone was waiting for the accident to happen so that things could get rolling. When they did, Juri and I were leaned on to see which one of us would crack first. Juri was always nervous; too much pressure might have made her crazy. It would be easy to find an excuse for it. It would just be a matter of finding the right symptoms..."

"You thought the mercury poisoning was an excuse?"

Keito stared at Persia. "It... Yohji said it was the lamp, but those lamps don't use mercury. I told you, I checked."

Persia calmly pulled an envelop from an inner pocket. "This is a copy of the autopsy report," he said, handing it to Keito. "I didn't know if you'd seen it yet, so I brought it with me. You'll see that there is ample evidence of mercury poisoning by inhalation. That lamp was the only item in the room with enough heat to produce fumes. It was thoroughly examined and found to be the root of the problem."

Keito scanned the document. It was as Persia had said. Only one detail stood out among the rest. "Mercury _salt_?"

Persia nodded. "On the bulb. Heated, it dissolved into fumes. It's not so uncommon; you could probably find it in any school's chemistry lab. You've told me that Juri refused food from the house, but would she have refused lightbulbs?"

"Shit!" Keito pounded one hand against the bench. "Probably not. It could have been anyone! Yohji told me it was the lamp itself. He lied..."

"Perhaps he didn't know the difference?" said Persia.

"Maybe not," Keito conceded. "Aya usually did the supply run. Sometimes Ken. She trusted Ken."

"She trusted you too."

Keito's heart sank. "She trusted me," he repeated, hanging his head.

"And you alone witnessed both deaths."

"I did."

"And your fingerprints are the only ones on the gun that killed her."

Persia's voice was calm, his questions straightforward, but Keito understood the message. "I didn't come to accuse them," he said. "I know how badly the evidence is stacked up against me. I didn't do anything, that's all I can tell you. I don't know if the others had anything to do with it or not. The deaths, they could have been accidents, even the mercury salt. If not an accident, then a mistake. All I know is that they watch me when they think I can't see them." Keito laughed, and ran a hand through his hair. "Hell, Ken doesn't even pretend not to. For all I know they're afraid of the same thing I am. I just...I just wanted someone to know what was going on."

The change of mood left Keito feeling out of place. He stood and bowed to his superior. "Forgive me, please. I've wasted your valuable time. I think I should go home and consider this some more."

"Wait," said Omi as Keito turned to leave, but when he looked back, it was Persia's eyes that peered at him. "My hunters are never a waste of my time, Sphinx, and I don't think you're satisfied with this meeting. Let me go back with you. I will see for myself what the problem might be."

The smile he offered was almost paternal and Keito felt a warmth of gratitude. He opened his mouth to voice his thanks, but choked on the words as a familiar figure appeared in the park, striding across the square. When it saw them, it broke into a run.

Persia followed Keito's line of sight and smiled. "Now, it begins," he said.

"Get the fuck away from him!" shouted Ken as he approached.

Keito was ready. He fully expected Ken to drag him away from Persia and was not surprised when a hand grabbed his arm. He expected Ken to get between them, dividing them further, trying to prevent the meeting of which he did not approve. What Keito did not expect was that he would be facing Ken's back when it happened.

"Stay the fuck away from him," Ken snarled, pointing a finger at Persia. "You took Omi. You took Rishu. You even took Juri. Stay away from Keito."

Persia smiled, a thin pressing of the lips. "Still protective? It's nice to see that some things don't change." His expression softened and saddened. "I took no one away from you. You can hardly blame me for Rishu and Juri. Omi..."

"You left," said Ken flatly. "You left and took Omi with you, but only one of you came back. Don't flash that grin and tell me different," he snapped as Persia tried to smile. "Omi is gone. Only the Takatori is left. As for Juri..."

"Siberian, that will be quite enough."

Persia's voice was cold and commanding. Knowing Ken's moods, Keito expected the tone to fuel his fury. He was surprised when it shocked Ken into wary silence. He should not have been, of course. The reaction was pure instinct. Persia was not disobeyed.

"I am what I was, but that is not what I can afford to be right now," said Persia. "I have many names and I am many things. It is the only way I can be Persia. Would _you_ have taken that name, Siberian? _Could_ you? Once you all but begged a teammate to command you to kill. If you can't judge black beasts for yourself, how could you judge them for Weiss? You won't even report cold facts.

"I asked you to be my eyes and ears," Persia continued, "and took everything you wrote in good faith. Why did you tell me you witnessed Rishu and Juri's death when the only person who can be placed at the scene tells me differently?"

Keito saw Ken stiffen and realized why Juri had been sent away early every night. Ken had sent personal observations to Persia and, recently, a doctoring of information. Ken had lied for him and that was why he watched - to prevent Keito from saying something that might uncover the truth.

But why would he lie?

Omi's smile returned, brilliant and compassionate. "I'm not angry," he said. "I understand. It's all right...but I think that Aya should present the reports from now on."

Only then did Keito notice the two figures crossing the square. They walked in shadow, like great jungle cats, their mission uniforms dissolving in and out of darkness. One of them carried something white over his arm. When he reached Persia's side, he dropped it at Ken's feet. It hit the pavement with the muffled clank of sheathed metal. "Suit up," said Yohji. "We have a mission."

"You are Weiss," said Persia. He was addressing them all, but Keito felt the steel gaze resting on him alone. "You hunt the dark beasts that the law cannot touch. But who is to say what makes a dark beast? The facts here are strange, both more and less that what they seem. I have received reports of suspicious accidents, complaints about the behaviour of my hunters, evidence against a man who came to me of his own free will, seeking protection. Now there is s question as to which facts are true and which are made up. There are enough leads and false trails to keep a jury busy for days, if not weeks."

An oppressive silence fell upon the group. Keito realized that he was holding his breath. He could read no emotions on the face of either Aya or Yohji. Ken lifted his arms and spread them, making a barrier of his body. For a moment, they were all waiting to exhale.

"But Weiss is dead to the rest of the world," Persia continued. "Weiss is dead and beyond the reach of any jury. It cannot be judged by committee, no decision would ever be made. The sin of judgment, right or wrong, must belong to one man alone and that man is Persia. I have taken that name because I have the influence and information available to a Takatori and because I have the skill and, I hope, compassion of one who is not. I try to judge fairly, according to the information that is given to me. Keito," he said Persia with a smile that was not Omi's, "do you know what the sphinx is?"

"A monument," said Keito, unthinking.

"The sphinx is a breed of hairless cat," said Persia, ignoring the reply. "That is an exaggeration, of course, but it has no coat to distinguish it. It wears no colours. It is no cat and every cat; all that matters is the skin in which you wrap it."

Keito's chest tightened as Persia paused to wrap his scarf around his neck and don his coat. He reached for an inner pocket and withdrew a small plastic bag. In it was a standard chemist's bottle. His smile was not Omi's, nor was it Persia's. "Weiss is dead to the rest of the world and all of their needs come through me. Siberian has no prescription for chloral hydrate and your fingerprints are the only ones on this bottle. Siberian?"

Keito looked on in horror as Ken bent to pick up his uniform. He grabbed Keito's hand as he stood and pressed something into his palm. "Run," he whispered. "I can't disobey Persia."

"Can't or won't?"

Ken offered him a bitter smile. "Is there a difference?"

Keito looked from Ken, to Yohji, to Aya. They looked him in the eye, without guilt or regret, and their expressions were grim, offering no comfort. Had they lied to him? Betrayed him? Or had they all been lied to and betrayed?

He squeezed the roll of bills in his hand. He supposed he would never know.

"I'm sorry, Sphinx," said Persia, pulling a small bundle from his pocket. As he began to unfold it, Keito saw that it was a small crossbow. "You were the only person at the scene, both victims called your name, and your fingerprints are the only ones in evidence. This is the information that has been given to me and the decision is mine. I am Persia, who is Takatori Mamoru, who was Tsukiyono Omi, who is also Bombay, and I thank you. Because, without dark beasts, there are no white hunters...and it has been so very quiet.

"Weiss," he declared, "before you stands Mimura Keito, codename Sphinx. He is accused of killing two of his own..."

Keito did not wait to hear the rest of the speech. He understood that it was the only chance he would have to escape and the last favour he would be given. He shoved the roll of bills into a pocket. He had enough money to escape the city, perhaps enough to leave the country, but only if he could out-run the hunters. Breaking the window of a garage, he grabbed two hammers and a crowbar and disappeared into a back alley. The former he tucked into his belt, the latter he hefted.

It was longer than his nightstick and hid no blade, but it was a weapon. He was trained, he was fit, he knew his adversary, and he knew the city. With a weapon, he had a chance.

From the darkness came the whoop and howl of predators lost in the chase. Keito turned and ran into the city.

End

July, 2004


End file.
